Friable: (adj.) easily broken into pieces or reduced to nothing.
When I was 14 I had a grumbling appendix. The doctors wouldn’t remove it because they didn’t see it as an emergency, but they wouldn’t let me do sports, just in case I sustained a blow and became an urgent case. While I waited for the powers that be to decide what would be done I spent Wednesday afternoons (the time my year had PE) in the library. While there I would write, poetry mainly. One such poem was about how fragile I felt in this situation. For the first time in my life I felt vulnerable and useless, that I would easily crumble into a million pieces. Following the composition (of what is actually pure drivel, produced by angst) I pored over a thesaurus and discovered the word friable.
And so “Feeling Friable” was born.
The last few days have been a challenge, leaving me on the brink of exhaustion. I even had an afternoon nap yesterday and have been keeping myself hidden behind my walls of self-protection. As a woman, a mum and a friend, I feel emotionally wiped out. It has been a time of asking some of my wonderful friends for a shoulder to lean on. It was while talking to B that I was reminded of the poem “Feeling friable”. I found my mind wandering to the title as we said our farewells, the fragility I feel at the moment is not about me shattering.
It’s a more subtle feeling of crumbling into powder, like I could be swept under the carpet.
Last spring I discovered a new side of myself, or perhaps a side of myself I’ve always had was described in a new way? Apparently I showed my Kitten side, by curling into a ball and resting my head in a friends lap at the end of a long weekend, allowing him to stroke my hair ever so gently. More recently I discovered a strong desire to have my hair brushed by a big man with strong arms. To be adored and cherished by him, to be craved but not touched in any way aside from my hair… I’ve never been one for labels, but have puzzled over what any of this means.
Last night, while waiting for sleep and peace to overtake me, I felt a wave of sadness instead.
I am not lonely, I love my life the way it is including the amount of alone time I have, but in that moment all I wanted was to be protected. To be tucked up tight in bed, and have my hair stroked while I drifted off. My strong protector watching over me while I slumbered. Perhaps I’m feeling fragile and crave a safe space to curl up and hide? Or maybe I am entering a softer, gentler phase? Then again, I could just be healing from hurt, and allowing myself to be vulnerable.
Whatever the answer I know that I can be Strong and confident while I feel friable, and that is ok.
From one thing, know ten thousand things.
Ok, so Eroticon is my one thing, and my brain has been filled with ten thousand other things.
When I found this quote for my title I initially intended it as a tongue in cheek reference to how full my brain is following the conference. However, in an effort to narrow it down to the top ten things I learnt, it has become clear that I wasn’t far off. No matter, I shall break it down as best I can.
The following are in no particular order, and are definitely not a conclusive list.
- The first session I attended on the saturday was with KinkCraft. It was important for me to find a space to relax a little and I love making things, so where better. Last year I made a flogger from speaker cable. The sensation it produces is delicious, but the handle is pretty is pretty awful. I am so excited to now know how to work with paracord to make a nice handle. As luck would have it I even have matching colours in my kinky-crafting storage box.
- I learnt that objectification works both ways. Sunday morning saw me with a huge dilemma. Each of the three rooms had a talk that I wanted to go to, but I had to choose one. After much deliberation I decided on Fetish.com and their talk “Launch your Pocket Rocket! Time to monetize your content” This was solely based on my need to wake up gently, and the men hosting this talk certainly offered that. However, not only was there sleepy-head cerebral porn on offer, there was also a lot of new and exciting content for me. I came away feeling that I may be able to make my little corner of the world at least pay for itself, plus an occasional caffeine hit.
- Sometimes it is possible to make the wrong choice of talk though, and one of my chosen presentations I found quite difficult to relate to. Come Curious are fun, beautiful and sassy ladies with an unmistakable brand. They are certainly high-profile, and represent some great ideas. I hope they pave the way for future generations of the sex-positive community, but with the way society is at the moment being out and proud isn’t always an option. I’m glad that I stayed for this talk though, some distressing and inspiring stories from my fellow delegates brought us all closer together. I think we all learnt something during “Public ejaculation: When you put your face on your sex work.”
- I met Zak Jane Keir on the book stand at BBB last last November. I had no idea who she was at the time, but after I purchased the Dice Writing book we got talking about Eroticon, and she told me she would be doing a workshop on dice writing there. I knew then that I would be attending, even if it meant missing something else I might find useful. (It did, but it was totally worth it!) I had tried to write using the book since buying it, but put it away again, knowing full well that I would find it easier to immerse myself following in-person tuition. I wasn’t wrong! Not only did I learn so much from her, other delegates (braver than me) read snippets of their work to the group and showed me how serious and/or nonsensical I could be. I can’t wait to start putting things into practise.
- “Procrastination is a habit of fear.” One of the most valuable sessions for me was Kayla Lords’ How to reach your goals when you have no time to work on them. I have had some intensive training around goal setting, and it is something I consider a strength. I am also pretty good at getting the work done, when I figure out that I don’t need to wash the garden gate or defrost the freezer… It was amazing to see someone so passionately discussing their goals and the minute changes that they had to make to their day in order to start winning big. But the sentence that stood out is the quote she used about procrastination. It has been helpful in my recent assignment, to a point, and I have shared it with a wonderful friend who has been doing a cracking job painting her woodwork. Thank you Kayla for sharing your experiences and inspiring me. (Though I am putting off my time audit. I wonder if I’m scared of what I will find?!)
- Something that follows on quite nicely from here is Molly and Michael taking on the subject of Looking at your blog with a critical eye. I know that I have a lot of work to do to bring my corner of the world up to speed. It got battered in June when WordPress archived me, and then my blog took a back seat while I licked wounds. Since getting my head into gear again I realised the amount I need to do, but didn’t have the faintest idea where to start. This session was immediately helpful. Along with Kayla’s30 minute rule, and a series of bullet point lists (Who doesn’t love a list) I think I will be able to achieve everything in time for this years “top 100” lists, and give myself a fighting chance of being included. Making one small change with each post (ALT description on pictures is my choice) sets me up with a winning mindset…
- But once I have set aside 30 minutes, and critically appraised (and fixed) my blog I need to have something else ready to go. Thank you Girl on the net for your amazing talk on building traffic. She made it look so easy, and using her basic steps it really is, but I have to remember that GOTN has been working hard at this for a lot of years, and patience is the name of her game. Plus #journorequest (I’m not sure I’m ready for it this month, but it doesn’t stop me browsing)
- Dessert and Readings on sunday afternoon was a steamy affair. Not only did I get to it peacefully and enjoy some smut, but I was able to put voices to people whose writing I have enjoyed for the past year. Victoria Blisse, who I later met on the book stall, and Bibulous One both had me particularly squirming in my seat. Having been unsure whether I would enjoy being read to, I have realised I am a complete convert and want smutty bedtime stories about pain and pleasure… No need to be in my own head.
- The trade stalls were great to chat with during moments when I needed to walk and chatter rather than sit and listen, and I wanted to say a special thank you to someone who has cleared up a long standing wondering of mine. Claire from ElectraStim not only made my day when she let me play with her demo kit (estim has been a long term favourite but somewhat absent friend) but she also patiently discussed an odd rope query I had re bondage and large lobe holes. She will likely never know how chuffed I was to be able to have this chat with someone, and to be able to go away with the confidence that (should I find a playmate with twin lobe hoops I can probably make up some mischievous predicament for them. If I can involve an Electra Stim Axis then all the better.
- Boobday is a meme I have been taking part in for some time now. I have always had a tempestuous relationship with my breasts, but through (excessive?) sharing of my breasts I have come to appreciate that mine can be just as sexy as everybody elses. I was so excited to see tweets flying around about a group picture, and was over the moon to find out there was time to spare before dashing for my train home. My final memory of Eroticon, captured by the wonderful woman behind Focused and Filthy my final lesson from Eroticon is that boobs are much more fun with friends!
There is something that I find really puzzling. Something we will all do at some point, or so I’m told.
I’m a 36-year-old woman and, as far as I can work out, I’ve been on 5 dates. Actual, official, proper dates. Meets and socials, easy peasy. I’ve done those by the (cough-cough) dozen… But actual dates, with people I would be considering starting something with. I fell into a relationship with my first boyfriend, never dated P. M and I met as part of a task and only went for an actual date when we were getting back together (again!) The first time I met B was a friendly swim in the sea, followed by a hot chocolate which then continued to dinner. We have since discussed this, and have come to the decision that it started as a social and evolved into a date. Does this mean it was my second ever date.
And besides, what is dating?
In my quest to figure all of this out I thought I had best get a definition for dating. According to the Urban Dictionary it is
Dating is where two people who are attracted to each other spend time together to see if they also can stand to be around each other most of the time, if this is successful they develop a relationship, although sometimes a relationship develops anyways if the people can’t find anybody else to date them, or are very lonely or one person is only attracted to the other and pretends to be in love with the second unfortunate person who has the misunderstanding that they have found love.
This makes more sense than the traditional definition where dating means to:
go out with (someone in whom one is romantically or sexually interested).
I have gone out with people I’m sexually attracted to, in order to ascertain whether I actually want to fuck them. With no romantic designs whatsoever. This is what I would describe as “a social meet” and I have done this on many occasion. These are easy to do. I am fully confident when pitching up to meet someone, it’s like an interview, but less formal. (Though if they are too formal then they aren’t going to pass my excruciating compatibility test!) A social would usually be in one of my favourite cafes, discrete and caffeinated, definitely public but not too public… Chat, and hopefully some giggles.
So that’s a social. What is a date?
This is where I get a bit muddled. What is it? Where does the social meet give over to the date? Here is the crossover for an initial social or date…
- sussing each other out
None of that is scary. None of it at all! So why does the D-word send fear into my heart? Maybe that’s exactly it? My heart. Sex can be as impersonal as you like, functional, friendly, devoted or loving. Perhaps even a combination of the four? As a single woman, I can get what I want physically easily enough. If I choose to. However, recently I have stopped looking. I have still been taking care of my own needs, but not had someone on hand to use my body in the way that I have started to crave. The taste, touch and smell of a man are a heady combination that stimulate my sensory erogenous zone. And yet I hesitate. Sex for the sake of sex has lost its appeal. And I am left to consider my options. And I talk to friends about dating, and they all seem to have a different view of dating, and the rules that surround it.
This is the dance we must do.
- No farting or burping.
- No family or friends to be introduced too soon
- Make up
- Nice outfit
- Don’t tell them your kinks
- Don’t show them you like them.
- A little drama between the first and second date is helpful.
- Show yourself as attractive to others on your first date
- No mobiles at the table
(This list is not conclusive, but my head is spinning just reliving those conversations I had to top)
Am I the only person who doesn’t know the rules?
How did an intelligent (or so I’m told) woman get to my age and not have any idea??
So I dug a little deeper. I’m not one to panic, but a deep understanding began to settle in the pit of my stomach that if I don’t start to learn these things then I may be single for a lot longer than I had imagined. And I don’t want Doxy to die and leave me!
If I listen to what these people tell me, my trusted companions, I will end up in all kinds of trouble. But I have been reassured that I don’t have to change who I am… Oh No!!
Let me condense my findings so far:
You show your potential mate the blank canvas of you.
Then, once they have fallen in love you shatter their illusions by letting the real you out.
All the while keeping your fingers crossed that they don’t reject you and your quirks, leaving you a shredded version of yourself, in a pit of black despair at never finding love again!!
If that’s the dance, I’m pleased I have two left feet!
I’d be really interested to learn what others think on this, I wonder if there is any right or wrong answer?
My brain was screaming loudly, though my mouth remained clamped shut. Silent.
Staring at the blank screen in front of me I had been counting down the hours until my deadline. That had now passed, words for the extension request almost failing me too. It was the worst case of block I have ever experienced and the cause of it was entirely unknown. The screaming continued, louder by the day. Drowning out every little piece of understanding that sat in the recesses of my brain. Strange how running quieted my grey matter brat. While thundering around the trails I could form sentences, prove my understanding and make headway with the words.
As soon as I sat down to that little screen the paragraphs evaporated.
They came eventually. Dribs and drabs of incoherent blathering. Not up to my normal standard, but technically I wouldn’t need to hand this one in to get a pass mark so I could afford this temporary glitch. Stretching back in my seat I growled. The frustration coming out in a growl of rage, my inner brat vocalising for the first time. With her voice came hot tears, burning at my eyes and clawing to get out. Angrily swiping them away with my sleeve I knocked the laptop with my elbow and brought up the internet browser.
As I’m here I’ll just have a quick look…
My Xhamster login was automatic, and my favourites easy enough to pick through, to find exactly what was going to hit the spot. Hot tears dried and dormant folds began to heat and swell. Dropping my hands to my pussy, stroking gently in time the slaves hands as he stroked his mistresses clit. Delving into my inviting wet hole with more vigour than I’d realised I had in me while his colleague fucked her withe shiny black dildo gag. Climaxing with the Domme on the screen as her body was wracked with sensation, gushing over my cushioned chair as her mouth poured obscenities at those caged boys.
The brat was quiet, for the first time in a couple of days. Sated…
Maybe now the brat has cum the words will follow.
Can’t do it? Won’t do it, until she gets her way.
Balls are one of my favourite parts of a man!
There, I said it.
They aren’t quite as much of a turn on as strong forearms when you wrap them around me when I am feeling fragile and vulnerable, or send me into reverie like your hands do over a cup of coffee, and they won’t tell me as much about you as your eyes, twinkling with mischief, lust or love. I can’t savour them while you are dressed, like I can your ass and thighs as you climb the slope ahead of me, and rubbing my finger tips over your closely cropped hair is much more acceptable in public if that hair is on top of your head…
But still, I love balls.
I find them fascinating. I love kneeling between your legs and gazing up at your face while I wax your shaft. Thumbing the pre-cum into your shiny head and dropping my eyes I pulled my gaze down to your sac. Those little goosebumps, watching them grow as the skin contracts, dancing under my delicate breath.. My tongue snaking down to tease those little lumps, I’m salivating as the tiny nubs caress my taste buds, drool escaping my lips as the sensation drives my mouth wild. Inhaling deeply, stealing your essence from that beautiful flesh before parting my lips and devouring the objects of my desires. Hollowing my cheeks and sucking you in, hand still stroking your straining shaft firmly now as I raise my eyes to meet yours once more. Trailing my left hand down betwen your buttocks I stroke your tight hole, tease you with fingers lubed by the saliva now dripping from my chin. Your jaw clenches, breathing shallow, entire body thrumming with energy. The building tension relentless.
God, I love balls…
I love the way you are so strong and confident, mastering my mind and body. Your dominance makes my pussy clench with each. Little. Word. that you care to toss in my direction.
But when I am there, worshipping every last pore, I am the one that holds you, and your power in my hands.
Check out the memes below for more wonderful posts:
It seems that April is here, and so is the April A2Z blogging challenge. I saw others completing this last year and wished I’d known about it sooner, vowing to join in with the month long meme this year.
Unsurprisingly I had completely forgotten about it! But then I saw a scattering of posts yesterday, and thanked my lucky stars. So here I am, on April the first, diving headfirst into the words.
A is for Acceptance.
Not only acceptance of the blogging challenge, which I’m looking forward to.
It is acceptance of my need to plan. I have an alphabet of prompts in store, and if I hope to achieve the full list I won’t be able to blag my way through the workload.
But then, something else happened.
While flicking through my emails I saw this post by Molly Moore. And it reminded me of Tabitha Rayne’s 30 day orgasm fun. When this one came out last year I was mid-task which meant I couldn’t join in. However, this year… This Year! This is my year… And I have added it to my acceptance list for April.
And then there is acceptance that sometimes, ever so occasionally, life gets in the way and stops me from achieving things exactly when I hope to. I may not have a theme as such, but I have got enthusiasm, and a list of ideas. My aim is to make this an interesting month of reflection, smut and mischief, but in order to make it enjoyable for me (so I can go the distance) I need to accept that I’m not perfect.
I’m pretty close, but it’s ok to fall short occasionally.