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.

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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

dsc_04191143498115018246957.jpg

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

 

How can I tell you to stop?

 

Road sign saying "give way in 70yds" for the post How can I tell you to stop?

Stop is not a word I ever want to say during a scene, but having the ability to communicate that need is vital for me.

I have been in a number of sticky situations where I haven’t negotiated carefully, and safewords have been an unknown. In those cases I was always left unfulfilled. I had not been pushed hard enough, far enough. These occurrences were in the days when Sir had seemingly disappeared. I was also in the early days of my separation from P and in a dark place where I didn’t respect myself enough to care about my safety.  This lack of regard was unhealthy and foolish, but I can’t change what was, just learn from my experiences. I know that when I met sir I was very lucky, that he was a safe man to take me on my journey in those early days. He talked me through scene safety, ensured I knew his expectations on how we were to communicate. A 1-10 rating system with red in emergencies worked well for me, and I was able to communicate clearly with him at all times while he got to know me. Red was my safeword. My “stop.” I did use my red once in sirs presence, but not as a result of his actions. The inexperience of another threatened to take me away from my submissive headspace and I needed him to know. For the first time ever I had used a safeword, he understood and respected it.

The scene redirected and play continued, all four of us happy.

On the other end of the safety spectrum I had one with H. He wanted me to use Have Mercy which I had to work hard to remember. I didn’t need it during our play normally, a gentle sadist who didn’t push me over the edge for a paingasm. He did abbreviate my name (A BIG FAT HARD LIMIT!!!) and I called Have Mercy twice before shouting STOP!! His friend was the one to stop, and H joked that he had forgotten my safeword. For me that put an end to our play partnership, and really our friendship. It is important to me that my safeword is respected and remembered. I would only ever use it in an absolute emergency and what may seem like a small thing to others may in fact be a massive deal for me.

The mistakes of the past are lessons for the future…

…and along with the return and departure of sir, this time with guidance on safety and pre-meet discussions, I was in a much better position to move forward with future play mates. Fast forward to late 2017. I finally met someone I had been in vague contact with for years. CST is a safe player, and an enthusiastic negotiator. I have a folder on his shelf. My likes, limits and safewords. He has the potential to negotiate the fun out of the scene, but I found humour and comfort in his need for knowledge and order. He is also a thoroughly sadistic Dominant. And while I may never have felt submissive towards him we have shared a number of sadomasochistic adventures. With him I was able to ask to be pushed to my red in an impact scene. I knew he would never put me in danger, the risk to us both if anything were to go wrong was/is abhorrent to him, but I knew that he would take me to red so that I would know where it was, and so that I would be able to recognise it. When the time came he was close to calling it as I spluttered “Red” to our spotter, through rivers of tears and a flood of endorphin fuelled orgasms. The pile of discarded impact toys could wait while he wrapped me in a blanket and our spotter fetched me a glass of water and a cup of tea.

(Disclaimer: I could never recommend Red as a destination, but it was important for me to know if I would know where my limits were physically.)

What about if I can’t talk?

Gags, tape, hoods, cock… they could stop  my red! I have learnt over time that when I enter subspace (and I slip quite readily into the buzzed space) I love to continue playing but stop being able to communicate verbally. With CST we covered non-verbal safety communication before our first meeting. A way to communicate without speech. I had 2 codes, one was a hand waving for “Stop, come and check in” and the other was 3 times flashing my fingers signalling “can I come?” I also find that the better I know someone the more they can read more subtle forms of communication, if they are observant. They know when to change things up a little, or back off. Thus increasing the time we can continue with our play time.

I know we are all different, but for me safewords are a vital piece of kit on the play-bag


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Feeling Friable

A small beige pebble being gripped between thumb and forefinger in close up, slightly out of focus. Further below is a crisp view of the pebble beach. The featured image for Feeling Friable.

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.

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Feeling Friable was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Eroticon 2019: My Ten things

Picture shows the handle of a hand made flogger made from black and green paracord. This was one of the lessons I learned at Eroticon with thanks to kinkcraft

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!
Three rows of breasts on display for a boobday group shot at eroticon 2019
Photo credit: Focused and Filthy
Eroticon 2019 Attending

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Eroticon 2019: My ten things was first published on A Leap of Faith.

The dance we must do

A freckled hand taking hold of an espresso cup handle, light reflecting in the glossy crema.. Featued in the post The dance we must do
Coffee: Date or Social?

There is something that I find really puzzling. Something we will all do at some point, or so I’m told.

Dating!

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…

  • coffee
  • conversation
  • laughs
  • 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
  • Hair
  • 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?

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The dance we must do was first published on A Leap of Faith

CAN’T DO IT!

Naked thigh with a lion tattoo tied into a futomomo with rainbow rope. Shared for the post Can't do it.
My beautifully bratty friend, as tied by me.

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.

Fuck It!!

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.

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

Can’t do it! was first published on A Leap of Faith.

Balls, beautiful balls…

Masturbation Monday week 239 prompt by Mx Nillin -- image of their cock with multiple hands touching it
Thank you to MXNillin for this amazing picture prompt for Masturbation Monday

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.

Illuminated sign saying Kiss my butt and lick my balls.

Check out the memes below for more wonderful posts:

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Masturbation Monday
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Balls, beautiful balls. was first published on A leap of faith.

 

Acceptance for April

Black and white picture o two naked ladies making an asymmetric shape not dissimilar to an A. It is the main picture for Acceptance of April
Myself and Dr Lovelace captured by Dark Lion Photos

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.

 

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pink and grey logo button with words 30 days orgasm #selfloveisselfcare

Acceptance for April was first published on A Leap Of Faith

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.

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