Caught in the lens

Woman in a vest top wearing a teal rope chest harness and black rope wraps around her thighs. Her long brown hair has fallen in front of her face as she concentrates on tying herself up. Fully relaxed her overweight belly rolls are quite pronounced as she is caught on camera.

Caught on camera, mid tie…

November 2017 saw me at the start of my weight loss. I had also just learnt about an app called whistlecam, recommended by my rope hero and friend to take difficult shots when I am otherwise occupied. Perfect!

Or not… What I hadn’t realised was that my text tone would set the shutter off at my least photogenic moment. I quickly averted my eyes, disgusted at my body and how I had let myself become. Focusing instead on the flying woman in the next (planned) photo.

Moving on to November 2018 I was reminded (by google photos) that I had this picture. It was a strong reminder of how much I had/have changed. Oddly, though I see the rolls what I notice more is my confident hands. I know what came next and I don’t know many people who can suspend themselves quickly, safely and securely.

18 months later the prompt for May’s Sinful Sunday is An Outtake Picture. I’m so proud to share this picture.

Rope doesn’t discriminate on size. Go and get yourself caught.

Sinful Sunday
Caught in the lens was first published on A Leap of Faith

 

V is for View

dsc_13663510136299577212143.jpg

Or perhaps I am clutching at straws to complete the A to Z blogging challenge. I have been wanting to share the story of my recent:

Fuck with a View

And with the passing of April comes the Kink of the week prompt Outdoor sex. Sometimes it pays to be behind with my blogging plans.

Regular readers of my blog will know that I love to be outside in nature, exposing myself in beautiful or quirky places, and occasionally masturbating in private-public spaces. What I have experienced very little of is outdoor sex with a lover, being fucked in my favourite setting. Not through want of trying, but through lack of willing partners. Until very recently my most memorable was the first time I met M. There had been a scattering of thrilling encounters over the years which take a bit more recall, I imagine that is mainly due to the relative privacy, or the location, but all this was about to change. I was about to up my game!

Dartmoor is my happy place.

If I share my Dartmoor time with you then it is fairly obvious (to me) that you are a little ray of sunshine in my world, one of the trusted few. So when I suggested that we head up there after lunch one sunny Saturday afternoon I was clearly relaxed and happy. I had known him for a number of months, discussing anything and everything that came to mind between us. The first time we met for coffee I felt a frission of electricity with him, but he was a man I met through running and had no idea he may be interested or even kinky. Frankly I had no idea if I would be interested really, such is my attention span when it comes to men. But my friendship with RunnerJ developed in a way neither of us were expecting…

That Saturday afternoon I ended up walking barefoot along the bank of the Dart, enjoying the soft, cool mud beneath my feet and fresh air in my lungs. We paddled, held hands, held each other and eventually he kissed me. Biting gently on my lower lip in the way he had done previously. Straining to reach up for more I groaned into his embrace as he held my hair, preventing our lips from meeting. I could see his blue eyes glinting in the sunshine, reflecting the river behind me, I could smell the damp, peaty earth and the fresh green spring growth, but I couldn’t return his kisses and the frustration grew. With each stretch up the pulling in my scalp sent delicious tendrils of pain snaking own my body, I whined with need and tried to surupticiously rub my crotch on his jeans. Desire had taken over and my hands dropped from his strong back to knead his ass while I attempted to gain friction for my clit. Though he manouvered his leg for me to rub myself on it was not quite what I wanted and my hands strayed to his belt, while he resumed the kissing. My mind had started to go somewhere else at this point, I couldn’t figure out the buckle and he had to stop kissing me to show me how to unleash him. A quick glance up and down the river showed we were alone, and I dropped to my knees to take a closer look. I don’t know that I’m a size queen, but I do prefer a generously proportioned cock, and I was not disappointed.

Trailing my tongue down his shaft  enjoyed his scent as his erection continued to swell.

I wasn’t entirely sure how I would manage to take it all given how out of practise I was, and especially seeing the two piercings. I’d never enjoyed a pierced cock before, and didn’t want to embarrass myself by getting anything stuck or doing it wrong! As is my way I took a deep breath, and got started. He seemed very pleased with my attempts, and though I know I will be able to do better with practise he mentioned that deep-throat was new for him. I was soon in my hazy space that I arrive at during cock worship; I would call it subspace, but power exchange hasn’t come up in our time together. He offered to take me home, and explore my body with toys, spend time on me in a way that he thought I deserved. My mouth said “No, my house is a mess, I won’t feel comfortable having you there” but my brain was silently screaming “Fuck me now, please just fuck me right here on the river bank”

Five, ten, twenty minutes passed, who knows? My mouth continued to explore and tease him.

I was pulled to my feet and kisses were traced over my lips which were covered in precum. His hand found its way into my hot dripping cunt, removing his hand and looking at the fluid drenched digits he pushed them into my mouth to clean before kissing me deeply.

“What do you want, N?”

Fuuuuccckkkkk….. How do I answer that? I’m great at communicating before and after, but once the wheels are in motion colours and safewords are the only way I am able to communicate my needs. Normally…. but we had spoken about anything and everything, and I trust him with so much that….

“I want you to fuck me. Right here. Right now. In the sunshine. I want you to cum deep inside me, and I want to walk back to the car as your spunk tries to soak my thighs.”

He stopped, put himself away and he looked around. I’ve gone too far I thought I’ve scared him, oh god. I wish I could just get back on my knees and… “Right, put your shoes on. We are going up there,” pointing at a tor, a short walk away. I’ve never put shoes on so quickly in all of my life. Soon, with wobbly legs I floated up to the rocks, guided by his strong hand. He reclined on the rock and I knelt between his feet in the dirt, with the view of a beautiful man and sparkling scenery behind him. Two of my happy places rolled into one wonderful afternoon treat. All too soon he was removing my mouth from his straining cock and standing up, he helped me to my feet and I pulled my jeans down just enough. The spring sunshine cooler now that we were out of the valley, but my hot wet pussy was burning for him. As I bent forward over the rock, exposing myself to him, he filled me. Gently at first, building the pace steadily until his thrusts became more urgent. I unravelled around him. Beyond aroused through the prolonged cock worship, and blissfully happy in my most special of places I came hard, vocalising my pleasure, as he flooded me.

Once we were both able to move we reorganised our clothes and we stood in the sunshine wrapped in each others arms.

The intensity of our triste threatened to overwhelm me, and as the fibre of his jumper tickled my nose I felt tears of contentment prickle behind my eyelids. We spent a little more time enjoying each others company: walking, having a hot drink at a local pub and then heading to our own homes, all the while our lusty juices trying to escape from between my voluptuous lips. Not long after I got home he messaged to make sure I was back safely, telling me he could smell us on his drive home. The perfect end to a lovely day.

And a fuck with a view, to beat all of the other fucks I’ve had this year!

OK, it was the only fuck I’ve had this year with someone who isn’t me, but I’m damn good at what I do!


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V is for View was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Underestimate me at your own risk.

Don't underestimate me
Image found on Pinterest, shared by Lizardianaamalia

I love it when people underestimate me. Particularly men who tell me they are Doms.

This week saw a bizarre conversation, which felt very much like a game of cat and mouse. It is no secret I am on Fabswingers, but what may surprise you the most is why. When I first signed up it was to help with tasks. Over the years I have found the site incredibly useful for a variety of things. Some I’ve already shared on here and others are still to come. When sir has been out of the picture my account has often lain dormant. Occasionally I’ll open it up and have a look to see what is about. I mean, a girl has got to eat. Invariably there are slim pickings and so, rather than deal with the deluge of “wuu2?” and “Hi, want fun” I hide my world away again. Recently a good friend has been asking me to keep a bit of an eye out for her on there. And as my page has been available I have had lots (and lots and lots and lots) of messages. I’m rather daft, I feel duty bound to say thanks but no thanks to everyone. I will usually have a brief exchange before I tell them I will block them so I don’t distract them anymore. I like to treat people in the way that I would like to be treated myself.

Occasionally someone keeps pushing, and they truly underestimate what I am like…

Just this week I had a message from a 30 year old (too young) gym bunny (pretty boy) from london (too far away) who told me he is a Dom. (Really???) He had the usual rebuff, and continued to talk. I made all of the points around not wanting a young, pretty thing. Especially as he lives so far away. He latched onto this last point, stating that he was moving to my town the next day, and he has his own place with a Red Room. At this point I was hooked. He had put his stupid into my inbox and wanted to play with me… Perhaps I could play with him after all. His next message suggested whatsapp would be easier, sending his number. I quickly responded on the app, happy to seem desperate. I wanted to know what this silly boy wanted with me. Turned out, pretty quickly that he wanted videos. He went to great lengths to tell me he likes to make videos and he had some, if I wasn’t going to be shocked. Explaining that it takes a lot to shock me, that I have my own videos which I don’t share because I choose not to, but that if he felt the need to send some my way then I wouldn’t be offended. He did. 3 mediocre 20-40 second videos. Oddly, each one seemed to have a different cock in it… He told me to rate them. 4, with the camera work being so rubbish, but that the woman in the face fucking video seemed to have some skills. “Bring it” is the recorded voice message that pinged onto my whatsapp. “Bring what exactly?” And then I reminded him I don’t share my videos.

He’s obviously not too disappointed as next thing I know my phone is ringing…

We had a little chat, I’m looking at the lock thinking about the blog post I am trying to write… We had a pleasant conversation. He didn’t stop talking, I made occasional non-commital noises to fit in with what he was saying. Next he’s telling me he’s naked except for his black calvin kleins. He wanted to know what I would do if I was stood there in front of him. In just his black Calvin Klein boxers. I said I’d probably pop the kettle on. “no” pressing for more “what would you say?” He sounded a little disappointed at my response of asking if he’d prefer tea or coffee.

However, he was undeterred.

“I promised I wouldn’t play tonight, but here we are flirting…”

“Are we?” I asked, not knowing how he could have mistaken my occasional comments and lack of enthusiasm for flirting… Suggesting if he doesn’t want to play he shouldn’t, that it won’t bother me.

“…Yes, and I’ve got a right bell end” He sends me a picture. Turns out his Calvin Kleins were white. Again, he asks what I think. I think the fabric looks soft, but apparently that wasn’t what he meant. Next thing I know I hear a familiar gentle stroking sound, who is going to win? I wonder if he is going to beat off before I call him on his behaviour. But it is at this point he starts to tell me all about his fantasy, and the game changes…

I’ve got you on all fours, and I’m fucking you doggy style with your ankles tied together. I grab your hair so you have to look at us in the mirror and then I slap your feet.

“What? How does that even work?” I ask. I can hear his enthusiasm through the phone, but I am so confused at the physics of what he is beating off to that I have to find out what the actual fuck he is talking about. “So, you’ve got this woman in doggy style with her…”

“You, I’ve got you.”

“Right. So, hypothetically let’s say, you’ve got me in doggy style. And you’re fucking me from behind as you pull my head up and back by my hair I can see us in the mirror. How are you going to get to my feet?”

Apparently he has long legs, and would be straddling  mine. And as he was fucking me and pulling my hair up I would lift my bound ankles to his backside and he’d reach behind to slap them.

So. Many. Questions….

  • How would I be able to balance in that position?
  • How would he ensure my airway was safe for breathing if he was concentrating behind him on my feet?
  • How would he be able to administer quality blows to my soles?
  • How would he keep a rhythm up that satisfied him? (Even if my pleasure wasn’t his concern?
  • Would I have something to kneel on?

In fairness to him he did answer them. but the fapping became less vigorous with each response. Apparently he wears a tie and belt to work and his belts are all made of leather.

  • But how will you get the angle right for using a belt on my feet if you can’t even see them?

In an effort to stop me badgering him with the complexities of his proposed fantasy he lowered his voice and said:

“Sir demands that you keep eye contact with him at all times in the mirror”

At this sentence I disintegrated into fits of hysterical laughter, replying after a snort “There is only one man I have ever called Sir, and you are not Him!” The fapping had ceased altogether by this point, and I breathed in a deep breath of victory! Then I bid him a good night and hung up. A couple of minutes later he messaged hat it was a shame I hadn’t sent him a video as it would have tipped him over the edge. Given that the only person that it was a shame for was him I decided to block him.

The mouse caught a cat when he went fishing!

I’m not sharing this story because I am laughing at him. Part of me is really ashamed at my behaviour towards him. I know full well that I played a game of cat and mouse with him, and perhaps that was unfair. But there is another part of me which gets frustrated with people like him, exerting their perceived authority over the unsuspecting new submissives who are swayed by a pretty face and an overworked fantasy. I also know a number of subs who would have happily shared videos with him, and potentially he would have passed those around to others. More women still (and men actually) who take it personally when they get played with like he was trying with me. I’m quite thick skinned, and I have had a laugh at his expense. But I wanted to share to show that this does happen, that life is full of all sorts of characters and that we should just try and be aware of the twerps among us who are not what they seem.

My behaviour wasn’t big and it wasn’t clever, but if you underestimate me the end result may well be a funny story.

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Underestimate me at your own risk was first published on A Leap of Faith.

T is for Traces

Lady wearing a cerise lacy bra, Framed by the fabric are traces of finger print bruises on her left breast

Sometimes I am knocked for six.

It doesn’t happen very often but occasionally my mind is completely blown.

This week saw just one such situation.

My mind and body flowing over the edge repeatedly in the hands of a friend.

Dressing today I noticed the remnants of passion. Traces of his fingers framed by my bra. Thanking him with a picture and text he was glad I like the marks but he had not intended them.

As far as traces go these are a wonderful surprise.

See what everyone else is up to for  Boobday

boob day meme

Lingerie is for everyone

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T is for Traces was first published on A Leap of Faith.

S is for Speculum

Lady sat on the edge of the bath with her feet in the bath and a speculum between her legs, lying in the bath with its jaws wide open. For the post S is for speculum

The kink being explored this week is speculums.

Like many women I am no stranger to these duck bill shaped contraptions, in the medical setting. And for me erotic vaginal medical examinations are a hard limit. So what on earth am I doing as the proud owner of a speculum? And why would I want to use one.

I’ll let you in on a little secret shall I?

I’m a fan of vaginal gape. I love watching a lovers face as I hold myself wide for him to inspect my cervix, to spit inside of me from afar and to see the inside of my hot tight hole. I also love to fill myself (or be filled) with all sorts of interesting things. Eventually the fear of medical play gave way to the need to explore gaping more. My rational brain says that, so long as the man between my legs is not pretending to be a doctor then it won’t be classed as medical play, just kinky fuckery. And so I ordered one. When it arrived it remained unused for quite some time. I would pick it up, hold the cold metal in my hands, expand the jaws and then release them again.

It felt like an age, but was likely more just a couple of months before curiosity got the better of me.

I really, really wanted to explore this and watersports together so… that’s what I decided to try. With a full bladder I settled back on the side of my bath. Strangely I was very comfortable there, shoulders resting on my toilet. First came a splodge of cold lube. Then I lined up the speculum and pushed the cold, unyielding metal inside. The first tentative pumps expanding the jaws slightly, before boldly pressing harder. I felt myself gasp and knew I could go no further, not today. While getting to know my shiny new toy I had discovered a gap which I assumed would be in the right position for me to be able to pee while I had it in. This rang true for my experiences in hospital with a catheter tube and speculum (following childbirth) so I was confident the next stage would work. Setting up my video camera on my phone I got into a position I could see inside of myself and watch as the pee would flow over my gaping flesh.

Depending how this worked I had plans for a sequel…

Video: on. Bladder: relaxed. And wait.

And wait….

Feeling the pressure building up I wondered if the metal was pressing on my urethra. I channelled my inner piss-slut and enjoyed the intense sensation where my pee was unable to find its exit. Relax N, relax… and with that the speculum flew out of my pussy propelled by a jet of golden nectar which hit my phone, stopping and deleting the recording in one wet blast.

At this point I almost fell off the side of the bath with laughing so hard. As far as plans going wrong this was about as far off course as it could be!

Lessons have been learnt for next time I get my speculum out to play.


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S is for Speculum was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Relaxing in rubber.

Relaxing and rubber were two words that a year ago wouldn’t have sounded right together.

It’s odd how in a year I’ve changed from being minutely curious about latex and a little scared, to missing it and my time spent relaxing in rubber.

It’s been too long since I’ve enjoyed any rubbery play time, either alone or with MrLatex. I’ve been looking through my pictures and found one that instantly made me want to play. (if only I weren’t staying with family away from home) It’s from the same play session as this one but shows a different side to me.

The side that loves to suck cock!

Particularly when that cock is straining for release due to the excitement of a new smokey black opaque catsuit.

Sinful Sunday

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Queen of the hill

On a windy day in March I met a new photographer for a test shoot. He had one idea to try and I have my Tits out tor bagging campaign to add to so we met on Hound Tor. Between the dog walkers and school children we managed to get a few shots. I love the joy on my face in this one, and the definition that is starting to show on my body.

Boobday celebrates body positivity, and I certainly felt like Queen of the Hill in this picture.

Go and see what other people are celebrating this week for Boobday
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Play date with my Doxy

I have mentioned before about wearing my latex underwear to public events. Since discovering how much I enjoy latex it has become apparent that wearing it is another string to my secret bow of confidence. A little hidden mischief makes the stressful things in LiFE feel much less challenging.
As with many things in life I am late to the party regarding the way that underwear can make me feel sexy, sexual and damn right horny. This set of Gummi rubber bra and moulded pussy knickers is no exception. They don’t have the smell that sets my cunt ablaze but they do have the feel and the sound of rubber that makes me needy for touch. The heat and constriction, and the way my skin sweats hot and then cold… Yes, these are the perfect attire for a play date with my Doxy.
Lingerie is for everyone

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Play Date with my Doxy was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Oversharing for TMI Tuesday

1. Would you rather get a spanking in front of your family or do a striptease at your workplace?

Oh no, the impossible question! I did get my boobs out at work once, and I fucked myself in my office along with completing stretching tasks at one of the projects I facilitated. Just naming a few of my misdemeanours. But these all happened when I was on my own. The risk of getting caught was real, but I could take big precautions to ensure I wouldn’t. Having a spanking in front of my family is something I could never do. My family is my children, mum, brother and nieces. My brother is the only one who wouldn’t be surprised, having walked in on me seducing his mate when I was a horny teenager visiting him on my post A-level break. He hid his embarrassment well at seeing his little sister swallowing his mates cock, and the only comment that followed was him asking how long I’d had my nipple pierced.

Anyway, I digress… A strip tease at work, that’s my humiliation of choice… Maybe not as impossible as I first thought.

2. You are a sexy _____ .

cock wielding, long armed deviant with an ability to melt me with your kisses. (Cock, kisses and hugs, you can see my wish list currently)

3. Hey baby tonight _____ me.

…Indulge… Let’s see, tonight I want to curl up in warm, strong arms. Safe against the world. Not because I’m feeling fragile but because I want to be wrapped up in someone. And last night? Well, last night I just needed to be left alone. To satisfy my own carnal cravings, porn in one hand and Doxy in the other, wave after wave of orgasm ripping through me in private release. Tomorrow that may change, I may become indecently aroused and want my face crushed into the floor while you hold my hands behind my back and slowly graze my lips and asshole with your hot tongue, ready to pound your thick cock deep into my heat.

So tonight, just indulge me.

4. Would you rather have a rewind button or a pause button on your life?

Pause! I was raised with a saying “You can’t live your life backwards” and as a result have always tried to be the best I can be. Sure, things haven’t always been perfect but I like the way things are now. There are definitely moments I would love to pause,  to eke out a little longer. Proud-mummy-moments, happy-slut-experiences and goal-achieved-and-level-up-times. But I don’t want to go back and relive. I have so much more to get back to.

5. Would you rather have noisy sex neighbors or nosy neighbors?

Nosy neighbours. I find noisy sex to be distracting, and am not overly loud. Well, sometimes I can be, but it’s a gutteral roar during a powerful post-edging orgasm rather than noisy during the whole experience. I like the idea of nosy neighbours though. What would they see? What would they say? Would they ask to join me? Or would the shame they feel at their own voyeurism lead them to stay home and take themselves in hand? I have a few rather lovely neighbours, now I’m thinking…

Bonus: Would you rather mentally or physically never age? Why?

Mentally I’m at a good age now, physically I’m coming into what I feel is my prime. The thought of dementure scares me. I have seen people become empty shells, and others regress. As I said above I don’t want to hit rewind. Also, the forgetfulness and mental decline are things that can’t currently be fought. I know that research opens up new options all of the time but I don’t fancy my chances much. Physical ageing can be delayed through exercise and diet, and I’m always up for a challenge. I know the risk factors from my immediate family, and am taking steps to ensure that I am battle ready if it turns out I have those markers. Osteoporosis, for example, can be delayed by quitting smoking (3.5 years clear), a calcium rich diet (I love all calcium rich foods) and high impact exercise (long distance running) which lays down extra calcium in the bones strengthening them for future punishment. Yes, the physical ageing is one I’m better equipped to deal with.

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TMI Tuesday blog

New and Exclusive: Elust 117

Photo courtesy of Master’s Eye

Welcome to Elust 117

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 #118? Start with the rules, come back May 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

A dominant presence

He Gripped Her Hand and Centered Her

Being alone together.

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

What the fig?

Mind and body

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

O! or, errr… NO!: Orgasm Control in an F/m Dynamic

 

*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!

 

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Fantasies Never Let You Down
My First Love
New Fun with Old Friends
Sometimes coming joint second
emotional disconnection, sex and loneliness
People Don’t Talk about This Sh!t

Erotic Fiction

Waking the Fallen
Daisy
opera seria
Catch the Catcher
Club Dress Extended
Dreams … (the Second : Arabian Nights)
The orgasmic arch

Erotic Non-Fiction

The Five Senses of Sex
A public beating
Rope Dreams

Poetry

-01.04.19_00:22-

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Primal Regression and Submission
14 Qualities of a “Good” Dominant
Balance in F/m voices

Events

Do I want you to hold my hand?

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Sex in Class
That’s My Kink – All Hail The Nipple Clit

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Why I’m not smiling for IWD

 

 

Elust

About 

The Editor-in-Chief of Elust and better known to the rest of the world as Mollyxxx

My beautiful stone fairy

Moulded and painted stone fairy for the post my beautiful stone fairy.

I could see it the first time I looked at her face. She didn’t love him, she didn’t love anyone but herself.

Not that I could say anything. Leaning on my stone toadstool clutching the flowers that would never wither. He had stopped to look at me, I had tried with all my might to flutter my eyelashes at him but I just couldn’t. My eyes locked with his and held his gaze though, as his hand reached in to grasp me on the shelf in that grubby corner of the shop. She wandered over, sneering at me and mocking him for picking up a silly garden fairy. “What on earth do you want that for? Silly piece of tat, no idea where you think it’s going to go. Not in our garden, that’s for sure.” He looked down trodden and almost broken, but I could feel his warmth through my painted alabaster dress. My lashes may have been staying put but my eyes met his confused glances each time they came my way.

He found a place for me, in the front garden, amongst the reeds of his pond.

In spite of her initial scorn she soon let go of her disgust, choosing instead to ignore my presence on her property. Over the next few years I watched them come and go, initially together but as time passed he would slope in late at night and leave early. She would spend more time home during the day, entertaining men who would turn up with bottles of wine and gifts. When they were home together I would listen to her shouting, no, screaming at him. Plates smashing, my back to the house I couldn’t see when she pushed him up against the window, holding a smashed plate to his throat. I only heard her wailing like a banshee before a low groan and a thud. Then the ambulance arrived, and the police.

He was taken away on a stretcher while she was taken in cuffs.

Seven sunsets later the gate opened and I saw him for the first time since that night. Dressings on his face, and an arm clutched across his waist. With his family for support he was well looked after while he healed. Soon he was back on his feet but a melancholy had taken over and his beautiful garden was neglected. I enjoyed watching the tadpoles grow and spring from the pond, fully grown and ready to go on their way. One knocked me so I was leaning into the lush green foliage that grew around me. The scorching summer sun reduced the water in the pond, and the reeds started to die back taking me with them. Laying back in the crispy reeds I had a different view of the world. I could no longer spy on him, watch him from afar. Baking in the afternoon sun I could hear the gate squeaking on its hinges, footsteps trudging up the overgrown path as always. I counted, it was 37 of his loping steps from gate to front door. Today he stopped at 31, turned and I heard 12 more. The final 3 came with a shadow and then, there he was. His face looming over me, hand reaching down towards me.

As those strong fingers wrapped around me our eyes locked once more.

This time my eyelashes fluttered, and his warmth seeped into me. A blink and a shake of his head, I could read those thoughts as they flashed across his face… What is going on? Am I imagining things? How…? No, it can’t be… I willed him to believe, desperate for him to see me, to touch me. What was I thinking? I couldn’t expect him to fall in love with me. “You’re just a silly stone fairy.” And as he set me back in my place I felt sadness flood the pit of my tummy. Each day from then on I would watch the sunrise, see him head off on his adventures and then return home, but now I was seeing a change. He would stop and clear a little patch of overgrown plants, starting with the weeds on the path, and working his way around the pond. He repaired the liner and refilled it, and when autumn arrived he had revived my oasis. Cracking open a bottle to toast his hard work he sat down next to me under the stars.

So close I could hear the lager bubbles rattling in his belly.

“Sounds strange” I heard him whispering “but I could swear that you’ve been watching me work.” He was talking to me, he had seen me. “I thought I was going mad, she always said you were just  silly stone fairy… But you are my beautiful stone fairy” I felt my wings start to tremble, he wasn’t looking at me but if he. Oh, if he had… “If anyone could see me now, talking to you, they would lock me up and throw away the key. I’ve often wondered if I’m mad. I felt some kind of… Oh, I don’t know… Something… You may be made of stone, but your eyes are like sparkling pools” Oh my goodness. The trembling in my wings spread south, now my tummy was turning somersaults, and my inner labia began to flutter. “I wanted to apologise for neglecting you. You brightened my world every time I saw you over the years, and I left you all alone, tumbled down in the weeds and wildlife” I was positively vibrating now, this energy….I hoped I didn’t shatter into millions of pieces “If I had one wish I’d ask for you to be real. For my eternal companion to come to life so I can look into your eyes for real” Was that a shooting star? “Well, fuck me. It’s now or never… I wish my beautiful stone fairy was not made of stone.” Draining his bottle, he stood up. One last look at me, leaning against my mushroom, our eyes meeting in the gloom. “Must be the beer, or madness setting in….” he rambled off to the house, 19 steps to the front door. He may have gone but the energy hadn’t left me. As the dew formed on my stone flowers I started to change, to grow. And as the sun climbed over the horizon I stretched my arms up and over my head, moved around my stone mushroom and sat down for the first time…ever. Gathering my knees to my chest I waited. Until he opened the front door. Our eyes locked as they had done so many times before. This time was different though. This time he reached out in disbelief, and I took his warm hand in my own. Smiling at his realisation that I was his beautiful stone fairy, that his wish could come true, I allowed him to pull me into his arms and crush me with his lips.

His beautiful stone fairy melted in his embrace.

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Image originally published as Fairy Folk and used with permission.

 

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Masturbation Monday

 

My beautiful Stone Fairy. was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Kind of like vanilla, but not quite.

Blonde lady peeking through a gorse bush ad smiling. Featured image for the post Kind of like vanilla but not quite.

As we move through the world, we present a certain image of ourselves. There are the bits of our personalities, our relationships, our lives that we are happy to share openly, other parts that we share only with our most intimate acquaintances, and some bits that we keep almost entirely to ourselves.

As sex-bloggers, we are, perhaps, more open about the things we share and reveal about ourselves, but even we have things that we keep, if not entirely to ourselves, hidden from the full glare of public scrutiny.

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

What are the things you hide from others because you worry that they wouldn’t understand?

Do you “categorise” what you share about yourself differently with different people?

Is there anything that you keep hidden away because you are ashamed of it?

Do you have a secret that you will never share?

Like most things in life the answer to the above questions weren’t as clear-cut as I first thought.

This weeks Food For Thought Friday got my grey matter whirring.  I consider myself to be a very open and honest woman, unless I have been trusted with someone else’s secret. Those are the only secrets that I can categorically say I will never share. They are not my secrets!

My news however…

I have a wonderful and varied network of close friends who I trust wholeheartedly. I don’t categorise them in regards to who I could tell certain things, but I do know their strengths and challenges. Queries about different kinks would be directed at specific friends, depending on their skill sets. CST, for example, would know more about my predilection for watersports and how I could integrate that into a scene with a lover. Another example is DrLovelace who would be asked about fire play and self ties. Technically I have all sorts of bases covered, and I am fortunate enough to be able to share my knowledge with others too. For my emotional needs I know that there is no end to my friends’ compassion, and I am certain I could pick up the phone to any at any time, with any issue, and they would be happy to talk me through it while I gather my senses. It is only in the past couple of years that I have been able to share my emotions with anyone.

Until then I was ashamed of the tears that my eyes refused to shed.

The person that I am now would struggle to understand that shame, had I not lived with it for so long. It came from a place of burying my true self deep inside. Allowing myself to be moulded into the person that P wanted me to be. Actually, that’s not entirely fair. When I first met P I was ashamed of my kinks, I wanted the life I felt was expected of me, to be part of what I perceived to be the normal world. But it all went horribly wrong, culminating in the almost total loss of me.

Almost…

There was a part of me that stayed strong, and once I had been cut off from social group I had been a part of for 12 years I was forced to find people I could become friends with. Make new connections, rebuild myself and shape my new life into one that I could be proud of. It hasn’t been easy, and I’ve made mistakes along the way but I don’t think I would be as free to be me had I stayed in the little bubble I had been left in after my separation. I also believe that what you put out into the universe you will get back. By being open and honest I have found my people.

But there are some people I can’t be entirely open with.

  • I have a lot of love for my mum, she is amazing in so many ways and I am very lucky to have her in my corner (when she isn’t trying to be in everyone else’s corner as well!) One area that she isn’t open to discussion is sex. Well, I could talk to her but I know she would be judgemental. My aunt is often described as an old slapper. She is in fact a 53-year-old serial monogamist, who has never had a one night stand or anything other than vanilla sex. I asked her when she had been drinking and was asking me for advice on my cousins sexual dilemma. For an “old slapper” she is very innocent. However, I digress… My mum would have a shock to discover her daughter was a sexual deviant! I know she would be ok once the dust had settled but her initial response would be difficult for us. Her in particular.
  • Working in mental health proved very interesting. I was always very private with my accounts, and professional with my clients. I do wonder if I have an air of kink because many of them would be open with me about their interests. I would never have crossed professional boundaries by being open with them about mine, but I would never judge them.
  • My children are, of course, the main people I wouldn’t be open with. I aim to be a sex positive parent, and certainly with my oldest reaching puberty I am aware of the need for being approachable. If they ask questions I will answer in an age appropriate way. Like the time my little one pulled a vibrator from my handbag and asked me what it was for. That was an interesting conversation to have at the traffic lights! What is this mummy? What does that button do mummy? Why does it buzz mummy? As the traffic started to move I answered calmly about it being one of mummy’s toys. Like he has Lego, but that is a grown up toy. Pop it back in my bag now please. And he did, conversation turned to Lego and singing songs while we continued on our journey. If I had been embarrassed that would have been a difficult (and probably drawn out) conversation. These little people who I have made need protecting from accidentally discovering things that could harm them emotionally. But I won’t lie to them. Sensitive question answering is the way forward here for me, and an area to tread carefully over time.

Not sharing doesn’t mean I stop being me though.

Wherever I am I can be cautiously playful and mischievous while wearing my mask. I can be playing hide and seek in the wild, and settle for a patch of nettles or gorse bush as my hiding place, scratching my masochistic needs. I can be found (and sometimes heard…hot weather lessons) wearing latex underwear to school church services, as my protection. Wearing a butt plug over dinner with my mum while we discuss her concerns about people’s immoral existence and I challenge her to see an alternate point of view. And then there are essential oil soaked scouring pads worn during study days. And that kind of mischief (secret, hidden and clandestine) is some of the most fun a playful girl can have.

#F4TFriday

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Kind of like vanilla, but not quite was first published on A Leap of Faith.

“Just” a basic black bra.

A woman in a black bra tied in beautiful red nylon rope for the post "Just" a basic black bra.

Late last spring I was fitted for a bra for the first time since my teens.

As soon as I knew I had a size I quickly fell in love with lingerie and soon acquired a variety of lovely underwear. The black bra I’m wearing in this picture is the first purchase, the one I made off the back of that fitting. A very plain, tee shirt bra from Marks and Spencers. The selection of bras they had in my size, or at least the ones the fitting lady insisted on bringing for me, were not to my taste. Not fun, sassy or playful. Sir had tasked me to push myself out of my comfort zone that day, and I wasn’t leaving the shop without a bra!

I chose this comfortable, functional and understated piece of equipment.

Little did I know when I left the shop that my wonderful friend would be bringing her new rope for me to fondle when she came for dinner that night. Fondle is exactly what I did, and when she offered to tie  me up in it I couldn’t have declined. Whipping off my blouse I decided to leave my new underwear in place, I hadn’t reached peace with what lay beneath and didn’t want to get them out in such close quarters to a friend who has marvellous breasts. It may have just been a basic black tee shirt bra, but it was the perfect backdrop for that beautiful blood red rope. It enabled me to stand proud in her wonderful creation.

Just because it is basic, doesn’t mean it can’t be sexy.

Lingerie is for everyone

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“Just” a basic black bra was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Inquiring minds

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1. Did leave your last love for some one else or no one else?

I haven’t ever left a lover for someone else. Unless you count me leaving P for myself and my children… If I have ended a love affair it has been for a reason between myself and the other person involved, either incompatibility or apathy. (Or both)

2. Do you enjoy being alone? Yes or No

I love time alone. I will often feel lonely in a crowd, but on my own I can revel in the peace.

3. Which of these reasons is most likely to spark your motivation for solitude:
a. It sparks my creativity
b. I enjoy the quiet
c. Being alone helps me get in touch with my spirituality
d. I value the privacy
e. I do not feel liked when I am around others
f. I cannot be my true self when I am around others

This one is hard. I do enjoy the quiet, and I value the privacy. Sometimes it sparks my creativity, and I am definitely more able to be in touch with my inner self. But really I think the main reason is that I need to recharge. I love being around people, watching, listening and learning. But… I can find excessive people-time to be a drain on my energy. I’m not sure if this is a stage on my self discovery or just who I am, but time alone is definitely my way re-energising myself.

4. Have you ever tried to win back an ex-significant other?
– Yes or No
– Were you successful?
– If yes, did you regret it?
– How long did the reconciliation last?

Oh goodness, yes! M and I were on and off for 14 months, at least two of those reconciliations were instigated by me. I don’t regret any of the time I spent with M. Some of it was painful at the time, some is hard and ugly to look back on. But M is no longer an ex. He is part of my family. And I don’t know if we would be here without the journey that we travelled together. We tried, we failed. Our coming together was part of something more important than a passionate love affair.

5. Do you mind if your significant gives or receives harmless flirtation?

I flirt with anyone so I would be a little hypocritical if I was to mind! Harmless flirtation is important to me, but not as important as knowing I am loved by the other. While discussing dating I discovered that an unwritten rule of the first date is to show yourself off as attractive to others. This is done by flirting! Who knew?!

Bonus: If you really knew me, you’d know _____.

that there is ALWAYS a silver lining. Even when you have to look really, really hard!!

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TMI Tuesday blog
Inquiring minds was first published on A Leap of Faith

 

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