Peeking sinfully

 

A derelict train station building in the middle of a leafy green scene. Peeking sinfully out of the doorway is a naked lady wearing a black latex hood with red trim around her eyes.

I’ve just clicked submit on my penultimate essay for the module and realised I still have time to share some mischief for sinful sunday.

This picture definitely reflects the way I feel this evening.

Like I am peeking out of the shadows and feeling playful.

Good luck world!

Click the lips to see what other people are getting up to this week:

Sinful Sunday
Peeking Sinfully was originally posted on A Leap of Faith.

Nothing beats a great smile.

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Recent explorations found me wearing a big smile at a busy spot, which was unusually quiet.

Though it was one of the scavenger hunt locations which seems like it should be so easy I keep seeing graffiti at the wrong time. . Either I’m with my children, there are too many people about or I am dressed in a way I can’t expose myself.

It certainly made me smile when I saw it, and with many fellow delegates struggling with con-drop I rather hope that this will lift some spirits.

See what others are up to for Boobday and Scavenger Hunt.

Scavenger hunt silver

boob day meme

Nothing beats a great smile was first published on A Leap of Faith.

An ebb and flow of interest and energy

The photographer is sitting on a shingle beach, watching the ebb and flow of the tide. Only their bare feet and ankles are visible in the shot.

Sex, when everything “works” is fantastic. Sadly however, even when the mind is willing, our bodies can let us down. Stress, tiredness, illness, having the cat jump on the bed as you are approaching climax (or is that one just me?) can all sometimes cause things to go awry and for the best and naughtiest of intentions to fall short of where we wanted them to take us.

So, this week, what we want to know is:

  • Have you had an experience where either you, or your partner just weren’t able to “follow through” with the mood? Is it something that happens regularly

  • How did you feel at the time?

  • How do you manage these situations? Are you ever able to get back “in the swing”? If so how?

When I was reading this prompt last friday I was at a loss about what to write. Could I have written about the many times my children have woken up as I am on the edge of an orgasm? Of course I could, however I love my children and parenting comes before pleasure… always. Plus, there is a sick and twisted part inside of me that loves the denied orgasm. Not indefinitely, but edging is a powerful kink for me. And I will take orgasm control any way I can get it.

Within reason.

With that in mind I thought it would be a good idea to lave the prompt alone for this week. But reading Twisted Bubbles’ post Dirty two sentences stood out for me and got me thinking.

I am a person who needs the other person involved, some way. While I have an amazing imagination it just isn’t enough for me.” 

I spent my marriage having one orgasm a month, maybe. When I first met Sir I said that was about my limit. Since exploring this further I have discovered the amazing ability my body has to cum repeatedly, to gush, to pulse. The variety of orgasms too, my mind was blown fairly early on. Acceptance of my body was not a given but my appreciation of it was never in doubt once it started revealing its secrets.

Imagine my disappointment when it.

All.

Just.

Stopped.

It was around the time I was at my lowest point, while I was rebuilding my confidence post P. Single by choice, no play partners (other than myself) and all of a sudden my ability to orgasm tailed off. I still had the sexual desire, but I had no ummmffff behind my self-love. The peaks seemed to disappear and I was left with a comfort in my own low libido. I would waver between “Oh that feels nice, but that will do” to bouts of sheer frustration at my total inability to climax. Tears and despair. Would I ever reach the heady heights again? The techniques I had learnt for forcing orgasms out of myself were not working. My toys felt good, but didn’t get me off, no matter how much abuse I gave myself, or how much rest I allowed between attempts.

It was some deep reflection that led me to peace with my situation.

I knew that toys got me off usually, whether in my hands or a lovers. I knew that a skilled sexual partner would have no problem dragging moans from my lips. The smell of a man, the sound of his voice, the touch of his skin. All of the above combined to create a full picture of what was missing. Not just that though, I missed the cerebral side of Ds. Someone sliding into my skull and nestling in amongst the grey matter. Without a dark and twisted man stimulating my most sensitive erogenous zone my libido had gone into hibernation.

I had heard about the way kinks ebb and flow as we travel our deviant paths.

While I took some time to rebuild my emotional self, my subconscious seemed to understand that it was not kink but peace that I needed. Some time to settle down and relax into a new life, a bright new world instead of burying my head in the sand. Or, perhaps more appropriately, burying my rubber cock in my ass! When I was ready those channels of self-love and affirmation would open up again, I just needed some patience.

Over the months that followed I started to regain my sexuality.

I started to meet new men on fabswingers and began to enjoy their company. The smells I had been missing, and the feel of a man rather than a rubber cock, set the fuses burning again. It was only a matter of time before I was ready to explode. The lingering scent on my sheets, an aching and well used pussy and my Doxy gave me all of the ammunition I needed to regain my confidence. I still have the ebb and flow that  I believe we all have, but my dry spells are shorter and further between.

#F4TFriday

 

ELust116

Elus6 116 Hyacynth Header

Photo courtesy of A Dissolute Life Means

Welcome to Elust 116

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #117? Start with the rules, come back April 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

The Space Between Us

Language Matters

Extraordinary Hands

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Chips

I believe I can fly.

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

photographie érotique ~ a perspective

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

 

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Love Hurts
Lustless
Parity
Relearning How to Masturbate.
My Cunt is Art
Hormones, Anxiety and Menopause

Erotic Non-Fiction

Watching Their Mouth

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

The night I went to a BDSM club
A higher age of consent for bdsm?
Fear

Erotic Fiction

hands up
Do you Dare? After Party Party
The Waiting Game
Vicki’s Dream
The Fear Factor
Bloomed Bright
My legs are longer than my patience.

Erotic Non-Fiction

A couple of couples

Blogging

Amazing Love

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Do you really want to hurt me?

Writing About Writing

The Problem with Perfectionism

 

 

 

Elust

Do I want you to hold my hand?

One hand with manicured pink nails reaching out from inside an inflated latex body bag., holding hands with a second hand reaching down.

It is funny how life experience changes us.

During my marriage I was made to feel like I couldn’t do or achieve anything without having P hold my hand. I now see that for what it was: him holding me back for fear that I would gain confidence and leave. For about a year after I moved him out I still struggled with groups of people, I wasn’t sure how I would fit in, or survive without someone there to comfort and reassure. That all changed when I went to my first ever munch. Of the people I would see there I had only met a couple of people in private and spoken to one other online. I walked in, fake-confidence plastered all over my face, and got stuck in.

There was no one to hold my hand that day.

It was a slippery slope from there on. I attended another munch in quick succession. Smaller this time, but I had not met anyone else, online or in person. Then came my first event. Now, years later, I am comfortable in new venues, chatting to groups of people I haven’t met before. I have recently been asked to take over hosting duties at my favourite munch, a task I have accepted after much soul searching. It seems relevant to say, given the prompt, that I have a strong supporting network of friends who will be holding my hand as guest hosts each month. I won’t be able to manage the 30+ kinksters without them, and look forward to sharing some of that responsibility. This is never more important than those days when I don’t feel that I have any people-skills. Occasionally they elude me completely, but the fake confidence can be plastered on again so that I can get through.

That fake confidence sometimes spills over into actual, real self assuredness.

A knowledge that I can do it, or at least that I want to do it so much I’m sure it will be alright. That I am enough, if that makes sense? That’s what I felt last July, when I saw that early bird tickets had been released for Eroticon. A rush of excitement and knowledge that I would be fine enveloped me, and I hit the purchase button. There is a long time between July and March, and over those months I started to grow nervous. Organising my train ticket and booking the hotel were practical steps I could take to quell those nerves but once that was done…. I had nothing! I reached out to my real life friends, they listened to my nervous ramblings during late evening phone calls, extended a Whatsapp hand hold when I needed it, just like they do when I’m floundering at registration for runs.

Eventually though, with my bags packed and my mum flapping about how dangerous London is, there was nothing to do but head off.

The nerves built on the train, on the tube, and at the coffee shop after I had checked into my room. I thought I would run around a bit of the city, calm my nerves before the meet and greet on Friday while also doing a recce for the conference and social locations. It did not help! Eleven miles I ran, and did not once see where I needed to go. Showering I rushed out the door, google maps providing a commentary in my ear. Even then I managed to walk a two mile loop when it was, in reality, less than half a mile from my digs. When I finally reached the venue I was lucky to bump into Kayla Lords and John Brownstone. They pointed me in the right direction and I promised to introduce myself properly when they got back to the event. Once inside I felt completely overwhelmed, and struggled to get my bearings. I have no idea how many people there were, but I knew nobody. I wondered what on earth I had been thinking! How could I possibly fit in with these people, everybody seemed to know at least a few people, or they had their significant other to keep them safe. I met Toy for Sir in those first minutes after entering. She was in the same situation as me, but had not long landed from the US. Needless to say, we were both swept off in different directions. Each somehow finding a guide to hold our hands while we got settled in. I met so many wonderful people that first night while fuelled entirely on Lime and Soda, and I slept like a baby afterwards.

It is so exhausting, meeting so many strangers. Putting faces and voices to genitals and writing styles.

The conference itself brought more people into my sphere. And I learnt so much from the speakers. When I found my way into the workshop for the demonstrations by Mactyre I was able to enjoy some time out in the vac bed, interact/abuse Jenby in the vac cube, and spend some time in the inflatable latex body bag. Although I felt utterly ridiculous in this new latex plaything (in a silly, fun way) I did learn that not all men in kilts go without! After being kicked out of the play room, I disappeared before the evening do. Decompressing with a short run, and some dinner before heading back to the evening social. I had met some really wonderful people during the day, and managed to chat to a few people before realising that I was drooling more than talking (it had been a long day!) and I headed back for some sleep before the second day of talks. Equally as amazing as the first day, I struggled to choose between the presentations. So many wonderful insights from fellow delegates and presenters alike. The deep exhaustion that has followed while I catch my breath is so entirely worth it, and as I come back to normal I shall start to decipher my notes, and look up the online round ups. I am looking forward to seeing how I grow and develop over the next year, both as a blogger and as a woman.

Do I wish I had someone here to hold my hand?

Sometimes I do, sometimes it is what I feel most in need of. To feel that someone else is there should I slip and stumble. But really, I am happy to not have that connection to hide behind. As things are I am forced to reach out of my comfort zone, to meet new people and start conversations. To find new people whose hands I can hold, however briefly, while we explore new territory. Be that munches, events or sex blogging conferences.

I am confident that I wouldn’t have met half of the people I now consider dear friends had I had the safety net of another’s hand to keep me safe from Stranger Danger.

 

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Do I want you to hold my hand?was first published on A Leap of Faith.

An exhibitionist is nothing without a voyeur.

Goodness me, have I got my bottom out in public? Anyone would think I’m an exhibitionist…

Certainly, if you are a regular reader of my posts you will have seen Scavenger Hunt posts and public exposure for Boobday. I always love the buzz of getting my bits out in places where I could get caught while ensuring that I don’t. This is something that was nurtured by Sir, and last week I played a little game with a friend you’ve yet to meet. It would last Monday to Wednesday, due to family commitments and my Eroticon trip.

It didn’t take long to get my head back in the game.

Monday saw me travelling to an appointment in a nearby town. I had planned a run and my change of clothes for afterwards left me with a chilly chest.

What you can’t see in this picture is the bustling beer garden across the river behind me, or the busy car park, public toilets and footpath that I was facing. There is something intoxicating about that fear, it rarely fails to turn me on. The concept of an orgasm as reward is a new one on me. Having said that my reward on Monday was delicious, the thrill of the memories coursing through me.

Tuesday was a similar picture, but of my bottom rather than my breasts.

It was a much busier day for me on Tuesday, but undeterred I formed a partial plan. I would head out for my run and drop my trousers at some point. I was swiftly running out of miles and there was no let up in the people wandering around with their dogs. The path branched off at one point and the walkers I was just about to overtake took the right hand path. I stopped at the entrance to the left path, set up my camera and dropped my trousers. The resulting picture was so exciting to look back at. If pictures had audio. You would have heard the two walkers chattering away behind the bush to my right.

I had been told that Wednesday would be a big ask.

Knowing that I was planning to run on Dartmoor I had ideas as to what would be requested. It was a surprise to see that he was asking me to:

  1. Pee through my knickers.
  2. Wring the knickers out in my mouth.
  3. For the last mile of my run remove your shoes and run barefoot.

I have always been lucky in that I have been able to question tasks, challenges and games. Wednesdays game was no different. 1 and 2 were no problem. I would look forward to wetting my underwear and sucking the piss soaked fabric. What needed to be communicated was that my training is not up for negotiation. As much as I enjoy being barefoot I will not risk my feet unnecessarily. Explaining my point the third request was revoked. There was something I was unsure of though. Should I put my knickers back on or wear them internally?

That seemed like a good idea to him.

Pleased with my suggestion, it was agreed that I would wear them for the remainder of my run. Sadly the wind was so fierce I could barely stand when I arrived on the Moor. A short walk made the decision for me, it wasn’t safe for me to run up there. So I visited a well trodden path. Again, full of dog walkers! I took my chance as soon as possible once I needed to go. Crouching in the middle of a field I could see for a hundred metres in each direction. Enough time to get the job done. Setting up my camera I set the video, completed the tasks in hand (and on-hand) stuffing the wet fabric up into my pussy I squeezed my walls to make sure that as much excess liquid was expelled as possible. Pulling up my leggings and running off I soon caught up with a couple walking along hand in hand, exercising their dog. Passing them I slopped through a muddy puddle, almost slipping over on my way.

As I slipped my core and pelvic floor joined forces to keep me upright.

I felt the cold muddy slime splash up my legs as hot wet pee gushed out of my pussy. The contrast was electric and I blushed as I smiled at the innocent bystanders. Did they know? How could they? The man though… He certainly had an enthusiastic look on his face. Arriving home much later I pulled the panties from myself, sucked them dry and then poured myself into a nice hot bath.

I felt the filth and grime soak away from my flesh, but it would never be washed away from my spirit.

You don’t have to be naked to be sexy.

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Photo credit: Ambrose Photography

Sometimes a sheer body stocking and some light bondage is all you need to feel super sexy.

I love what a bra does to my clothed figure, but without the covering of fabric I still feel lumpy and bumpy in an unattractive way. With weight loss comes baggy skin, a delay in the shape change.  A body stocking seems to soften the lines a little, and with some ropes over the top I’m always a happy bunny. I can control where the lines go, accentuate the waist and highlight the breasts.

In bondage I have the freedom to be me, and to be sexy.

Lingerie is for Everyone

You don’t have to be naked to be sexy was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Don’t let someone get comfortable disrespecting you.

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Photo credit: JerBear

If he wanted to see me cross all he had to do was stretch out in the sunshine, erection on display in all of its glory.

Since his behaviour two weeks before I had been nursing my hurt feelings, brooding. Not only had he topped me from the bottom, but he had bratted me. Neither were things I consented to. Bruised I’d withdrawn, and despite his advances I didn’t know how to move past it. The longer I waited the more he tried to seduce me. And the more he tried the greater the distance became. Talking hadn’t worked, he still thought that I would feel better if I would just let him fuck me but the power exchange lay in tatters.

I wanted him to understand how I felt, but couldn’t work out how.

Since switching roles things had become more complicated in my mind, confusing. And now he was laying on the kitchen bench, tight balls and straining shaft, and all I wanted was to put the shopping away and get started on dinner. Pulling things out of the bag I laid my fingers on the ginger, an idea started to form. Could he? Would he? catching his eye, I raised it, eyes brightening as I heard him gasp. “You wouldn’t…” he said. Smiling I reached into the drawer for the peeler. I knew full well that this piece was as fresh as it would be, and that would make the intense pain last longer.

“I can’t take that Miss, It’s too fat. You know I’m not stretched”

The way Miss fell from his lips… The fear that made his voice crack, just a little bit. My cunt twitched. “Don’t worry about that boy, I’ll be peeling it , I can trim it to fit…  but not too much. I want to see you squirm” and with that I reached into the drawer by my hip and withdrew the peeler and a paring knife. As I whittled away at the knob his eyes grew wider. His pride and joy began to lose its smooth edges, withering slightly as he realised I wasn’t playing.  “You will learn not to disrespect me boy. If I didn’t think you could take this I wouldn’t be asking you to pull your knees up and show me your sweet little hole” Disbelieving eyes looked back at me, sweat blossoming on his forehead. The more fear he showed the wetter my pussy became. My cold, dry useless hole of earlier quickly becoming a dripping furnace of desire.

“I’m not lubed though Miss, and that looks fatter than your finger. Do you really think…?”

The words stopped abruptly as I edged closer, but he kept his legs down. “I can always grate it, stuff your foreskin and staple you closed” I suggested, with a sweet smile. Knowing full well that I meant every word he pulled his knees up as swiftly as the last of his hardness disappeared. Running a finger over his puckered opening I began to salivate. “Thank you boy” was all I could say before spitting on him, pushing first one finger and then a second inside him, and briefly fucking him roughly with them. Removing my dirty digits and replacing them with the ginger, as he silently screamed at the pain that threatened to overwhelm him I pushed those fingers into the gaping chasm that looked so inviting. “Clean them properly and I’ll have something else to distract you”. With my free hand I discarded my knickers and pulled up the skirt, running my ginger laced fingers over my own swollen sex, delving between my now puffy labia, seeking friction while I waited for him to finish showering my hand with adoration. Watching his pain, what he was taking for me…

Balance was restored… for now.

Masturbation Monday

 

Life is more fun if you play games

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“I’ve got a five-day game for you next week.”

My phone lit up again. This time with a list of items to gather up.

  • Suspender belt
  • Rope
  • Leather
  • My favourite sensual material
  • A scouring sponge
  • Tea tree oil

With just one thing missing from my list I had to go shopping. Oddly it was just the suspender belt that I needed initially. Checking in about my leather laces the following day he suggested that it may be a little too intense, best to find something a little wider.

I love to spend time wondering, trying to work things out.

Clear instructions are important, but having a little time to wonder and guess has always been something I have enjoyed. Sometimes because the nervous curiosity makes me wet. Sometimes because I can work it out immediately and feel all pleased with myself. I thought I was mostly there with this one, I thought I had worked it out, but something wasn’t figuring in my mind; the last two items.

Once I had gathered all of the list together I was told what the week would entail.

  • Monday – rope tied between my legs front to back, attached to the suspender belt. Knickers over the top.

  • Tuesday – leather attached to the suspender belt in the same way as the rope. Again with the knickers.

  • Wednesday – Sensual material attached in the same way. And knickers again.

  • Thursday A.M. Scouring sponge to be work inside my knickers, scouring side up.

  • Thursday P.M. Sponge to be soaked in Tea Tree oil, with the sponge side up this time.

  • Friday- TBC

It looked like I was going to be having a busy week!

Monday was a challenge, it took a couple of attempts to get the tension right with the rope. Every time I thought I had it the rope began to feel loose. I wondered if I should just lose the belt and use rope instead? Tension would then be maintained rather than the belt stretching. No. I would follow the instructions given, I have never been one to deviate mid task unless life changes beyond my control. I was going to be free early afternoon and sent him a message at the agreed time. “I’ll be half an hour. Keep busy, and find your two favourite toys” When that half an hour was up he messaged, I was to be naked, and ready on my bed, I confirmed that I was all set, and he said he was going to call.

“Fuck” was the silent scream in my head.

I don’t talk to many people on the phone. I don’t like my voice, and get terribly embarrassed. I also find understanding tone of voice challenging without non verbal communication. But it was too late for that now, my phone was ringing! That first call went surprisingly well. Following his instructions I edged three times and followed that up with three finger plunging, squelching orgasms. He was happy and I was sated, giddy and still trembling an hour later on the school run.

Tuesday was the leather.

I loved the way it felt, nestled between my labia. Warm and comforting. Rope is something that I automatically have a strong reaction to, but leather wasn’t far behind. My day was full, so we kept in contact through the day although conversation was limited. By the time bed time arrived my leather thong was impregnated with my scent, and I was ready for the reward on offer.

The sensual fabric was wonderful.

I had chosen a blue sparkly fabric. A little bit rough, and almost sharp in the way that it rubbed between my ever swelling and moistening lips. By the afternoon I was hungry for the phone call I guessed would be coming. This time I was to gather some pegs and a candle. Once I was naked he called, and set me to work attaching pegs to my breasts before exercising. Star jumps, touching my toes and twisting at the waist. Only one of the pegs went flying off, but it was no less painful. Attaching pegs to my labia and then passing the gentle warmth of a lit candle between my legs. Dripping some wax onto my nipples before laying down and dripping a little on my belly and inner thighs.

Then the timer started.

He told me I had 5 minutes to reach orgasm as many times as possible. The timer ticked by, but none would come. Humiliation is something I enjoy, but this was beyond that. I felt something I hadn’t experienced for a long time: shame. Why couldn’t I come, my doxy is powerful, power exchange is powerful. I reasoned with myself that the standard 17 minute rule (that’s how long it usually takes to reach climax alone) still stands. No problem, he said, I want you to have 3 before the school run. Which gave me 40 minutes. Could I orgasm? Could I hell…

One grumpy mummy at the school gate, feeling ashamed for not achieving the task she’d been set.

The following day was the sponge though. No time to think about my abject failure the previous day, my lips wrapped around the stiff sponge. Rushing from one appointment to the next, pulling my knickers up to keep the irritant in place. My clit pulsed as the sensitive skin smarted brutally. Lunchtime saw me removing the sponge and lacing it with tea tree oil. Not before taking a long inhale of the sponge which now smelt of my sticky cunt, laced with a little pee. Sitting through a long meeting through the afternoon, in close quarters with my peers I was very aware of the scent of the oil. I was the only person in the room who knew what the smell meant, the secret as arousing as the stinging oil lapping at my pussy. At tea break time I glanced at my phone Give yourself a squeeze under the table. With no table I had to improvise, and spent the second half of the afternoon pressing my thighs together in plain sight.

He was pleased with my day, but there were two surprises in store for me.

The first was that Fridays task was confirmed as No Knickers Friday.  The second was that I had done so well I was to be rewarded with 3 orgasms, to be taken before midnight, along with the 3 from Wednesday. Two restless children made this incredibly difficult, but it was with a huge amount of relief when I achieved my sixth orgasm at 11:57. Sending a smiling photo of my success, I was happy and so was he.

Waking up the following morning it soon became clear as to why I wasn’t to wear any knickers…

The exertions of Thursday, with the abrasive sponge between my lips causing irritation. I had to make sure I kept myself distracted from the discomfort. I almost broke, nearly asked if I could put some sudocreme before thinking better of it. I am a lot of things, but I’m not delicate. I wouldn’t give in that easily! He told me that permission would have been granted if I had asked, but I hadn’t and that made me proud. I had recovered a little of my self-appreciation that I had lost on the Wednesday. When he told me how pleased he was with my hard work and how I had gone above and beyond on more than one occasion that made me feel proud of myself once more.

What a week!! A true roller coaster.

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Life is more fun if you play games was first published on A Leap of Faith

Despite the forecast live like it’s spring.

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Photo credit to Urbstract Photography.

Today the sun was shining and my thoughts turned to spring.

The sun was shining and the sea looked so inviting as I ran along beside it. The cheeky wind reminding me that although spring is technically here, it is still in its infancy. Patience is required,though the daffodils and celendines danced in the gusting sea breeze.

The above photo was taken last may, when the sun shone and I walked naked beside the river.

A very public show of myself, and the first time I had braved naked nature with another person. The weather was perfect, I’m looking forward to feeling the warm breeze on my naked flesh again. I wonder what images I can create this spring? What words can be laced together with those images.

How different I am: physically and emotionally, as well as creatively.

Sinful Sunday

 

Intelligence is the Ultimate Aphrodisiac

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Certain foods, drink, candle light, a certain song, a particular scent, Wednesdays; there are all kinds of things that people consider aphrodisiacs.

Different people are turned on by different things, so, this week, what we want to know is:

Do you have a go to aphrodisiac?

What things help put you in a sexy mood?

Do you have a favourite “love potion/cocktail” that you know your partner cannot resist?

Food for Thought Friday likes to share questions that I struggle to answer. Sometimes the answers just come to me, and the posts write themselves, but weeks like this provoke an internal argument.

I don’t eat Oysters, sip Champagne or nibble strawberries from a lovers fingers. “Pah” I thought “I don’t need aphrodisiacs!”

And then I read the original post again. It wasn’t all about food as I had initially read it. And there is so much more to my state of arousal than what I perceive to be “the norm.”

Over the years I have found that my sense of smell has a direct line to my libido. I like men to be clean but naturally scented. The pheromones which they give off, particularly from their armpits (during an embrace before the clothes come off) or on their balls and in their pubic hair (when I’m nuzzled down there) can make me soak through almost instantly. I am a very happy masturbator, but the thing that I am unable to replicate is testosterone laced bodies. I miss that extra layer of arousal.

I would describe my sexuality as submissive, mainly craving the Dominant male to stimulate my desires. Intelligently fucking with my mind presses all of my buttons and leaves me helpless in the face of my need to please Him. It takes some time and effort for Him to weave His ways but… once in there, so long as it is good for him, the slut will come out to play. Simply saying:

  • Entertain me.
  • Amuse me.
  • Make me proud.
  • I’m not sure what I want to from you next. You know what I like… Please me.

I love this quote:

Image result for seduce the mind quotes

It more or less sums up my aphrodisiacal (I think I made this up?) needs.

My magic potion for seducing my partner is….

Non existent. I have been told my open, honest and direct manner gets men excited. They know where they stand with me I guess? But I think also my eyes, I’m told they are very twinkly and mischievous. I shall try to be more observant of what works in future.

#F4TFriday

 

Setting Fire to #Boobday

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I had a visit this week from the lovely Dr Lovelace for dinner, a catch up and some fire play.

As seems to be tradition for us we both ended up topless, this time setting fire to things in my courtyard. With the sad news of Keith Flints death on Monday it seemed a fitting tribute to thank him for the quarter century of musical memories through #Boobday.

I was only ten when I heard them for the first time, my brother introduced me to the joys of muting the TV and having music on while the pictures continued. And I will always remember the time I was dragged from the mosh pit when I saw them live, P didn’t think I was able to take care of myself. Keith was on stage not far from me, I could almost feel the heat from the fire in his eyes I was so close.

Thank you Keith for stoking the fire of my hedonism all those years ago, rest easy and I’ll see you on the other side.

Hy tits banner in black and white v neck t shirt

Setting Fire to #Boobday was first published on A Leap of Faith.

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