Do I want you to hold my hand?

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

It is funny how life experience changes us.

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

There was no one to hold my hand that day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

See me, feel me, touch me, heal me.

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Photo credit: Dark Lion photography and extra hands:Dr Lovelace.

There was a time when I couldn’t stand touch.

As a child I was always loved, my family were close-knit and always there for me, no matter what. But it was never shown in a tactile way. Love was shown through actions rather than hugs and kisses. My adolescence saw me exploring sex in all its glorious technicolour, but I after having my heart-broken at 17 I didn’t seek intimate touch, just lusty liaisons. After I married the touch I became used to quickly became something other than intimacy. It was a kind of ownership that is not intimate, or pleasant, or erotic. The feel of P’s hands on my thigh would make my skin crawl, knowing what he wanted and what I didn’t want to give.

Not so many years ago that all started to change.

As I touched upon in Touchy Feely Food For Thought I have become quite the sensation slut. Gentle touch and firm, strokes and swipes. I have become tactile with my friends. Platonic intimacy is wonderful, hugs and gentle caresses, even massages. And my children, showing them my love through touch as well as actions. I am constantly learning how to be a better person. It isn’t always easy but it’s a process I like to go through. And as I opened up I began to notice new things.

The touch of hands is healing.

Most sensations I can recreate on my own. As a single mum this is quite important, time is short and little minds are enquiring. My own hands can run over naked skin and leave gentle trails of self-love wherever they go. But the hands of a lover allow those same gentle trails to penetrate deeper and slice through to my core. The cool kisses of my own fingertips replaced by a blazing wake of lust. The sensation is deep and feeds a part of me which needs occasional nurturing. Skin to skin contact, particularly strong hands, make my soul sing. But it’s not just the touch.

Seeing strong hands excites me in a way I still don’t understand.

A man with thick, long fingers drinking coffee from a (comparatively) delicate mug is a delicious sight. I can look at a man’s hands and imagine the feel of them on my lips, on my skin. The taste of them as I run my tongue over them, particularly after they have explored the places that are difficult for me to reach. I found myself having coffee with a fellow runner last week and I may have slipped off briefly when he picked up his drink… wondering how it would feel to have those hands restraining my (comparatively) delicate throat.

You can take the girl away from the kink (briefly) but you can’t take away the perversions.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QV_9pn7MGUo

Click the lips to see what other people are up to for Kink of the week and February Photofest.

February Photofest

Touchy Feely Food for Thought

Touchy-feely latex

It turns out I’m a touchy feely sensation slut.

I thought I had always been averse to touch, there isn’t a time I remember enjoying the touch of P. His hands, his body, his tongue and his beard… all made me recoil for as far back as I can think. Taking my sexuality back I somehow managed to keep the intimacy of touch at bay, though the strongest memories with Sir are of the lightest touch. A gentle finger trailing lightness through the darkness.

For me there must be balance between light and shade.

The darkness is the touch that I enjoy most, that I crave. It is the harsh bite of a belt, the fiery impact of wet bircher or the deep and thuddy vibrations of a heavy wooden paddle (or any other impact toy in between.) Although I know that it lacks the intimacy of a bare handed spanking it makes my skin come alive so that the lightness of gentle touch can be absorbed. The darkness creeps into the times when I touch myself. Pinching, pulling and stretching. But gentle strokes across my abdomen are wonderful, better when experiencing the touch of another as it turns my flesh all gooey.

The deeper the dark the brighter the light can be.

It isn’t just the sensations I can absorb though, it is the wonderful world of touchy feely intimacy which has opened up to me over the last year or so. My favourite way to arouse a lover is with my mouth. Not only am I up close and able to absorb the taste and scent of his flesh, I can see the impact of the gentlest touch my tongue. The goose bumps that erupt across a taut scrotum, the turgid flesh heating and turning darker in colour.

Worshipping a cock is one of my favourites for this reason.

I’d been speaking to some long-term friends and rubber lovers about their collection, hoods in particular. Around this time I met a latex fetishist who I took the plunge with. He was shy which I found quite endearing, he wasn’t used to sharing his fetish with others and was a gentle soul who harboured a lot of shame over his kink. He helped me into the hood he had brought for me to try, and with him all suited up he kissed me. I hadn’t really known what to expect but the sensation was like a gentle electric buzz across the contact points. This was a whole new way of enjoying touch. One that I have been enjoying exploring since, as you can see in the picture above.

I will definitely share more on this overtime.

While caress isn’t something that has been a feature in my life for long I have always had a dislike of having my belly button explored. And I don’t particularly like it when people get too close to my eyes. The first time I wore a blindfold was a huge leap of faith for me, and it opened my eyes to a whole new world of sensations.

#F4TFriday
February Photofest
Touchy Feely Food For Thought was originally published on A Leap Of Faith.

Social media #FitbutFat

The world of social media is a strange one…

I opened up my twitter this morning and at the top of my feed was a post under the hashtag #fitbutfat. It’s not entirely random, and it’s certainly not a self-depricating search. My study has me wading through the muddy waters of social media in an entirely uncomfortable fashion. The overdue assignment I’m currently struggling with (because writing is not my friend at the moment) is about healthy obesity, hence the search. And as if by magic this picture popped into my messages from a shoot yesterday.

I’ve lost a lot of weight and am close to being “just” overweight.

But the tee shirt represents my ever increasing good health. And the strap on, well… That is another new side of me. One I’m not quite ready to share in full on here, but by the time I am up to date I will be further along and have a clearer idea of what it means to be me.

Do something epic!

Yes please.

Check out what everyone else is up to:
Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

February Photofest

 

Sinfully spread for sinful sunday

Originally posted here.

I’m actually quite fond of my pussy. I like the way that I can drive myself insane with touch. I also like the way that it can send men a little bit crazy…

When Sir was learning my body through physical contact and video clips there was also a large amount of self discovery occurring.

Watching porn as a youngster I always worried that my voluptuous lips were hideous, not helped by the regular taunts from P about my “fat fanny.” It’s amazing what a little self acceptance, and self love can do. And I do love this part of my self.

Regularly!!

Click the lips to see what everyone else is up to.

Sinful Sunday

 

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