Despite the forecast live like it’s spring.

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Photo credit to Urbstract Photography.

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

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

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

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

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

Sinful Sunday

 

Don’t forget to fall in love with yourself first.

gape

I have shared this picture before, on Sinfully spread for sinful sunday. It got me into a little trouble with the powers that be at WordPress, leading to my blog being removed in the middle of June. On the comments Molly suggested I take part in the pussy pride project, and since then I have had this post waiting to be written in my draughts.

I have a wonderful relationship with my pussy, but it hasn’t always been this way.

Where to start? Why…at the beginning of course!

It is quite well documented within my family that I was always a tomboy. My mum joyfully tells people how I would tuck toy lorries into bed with me at night instead of dollies and cuddly toys. In all honesty, at a young age I didn’t define myself as a boy or girl, why would I? My brother was my hero, and I happily trailed him round on my bike. Gender irrelevant. As I grew up I realised that my body was different to the rest of my family. Mum hid herself away under clothes, shrouding her curves in mystery. But I had, as all children do, seen glimpses of different parts of my brother and dad. I did not have one of those! So I spent some time exploring my body. That pre-pubescent night with a mirror, a torch, a book on anatomy and a pencil.

That was the first time I realised that there were three exits, and I read all about what the middle one did.

This was scary stuff for a 9/10-year-old girl. Babies and pregnancy had been covered in year 5 primary school, but they came out of there??? Holy smokes! As I grew up my body changed, and I learnt all about how these things worked. It wasn’t so scary anymore, but I knew that wasn’t for me. Babies and children, no thank you! But what else was it for? That was a mystery to me. Though learning continued apace, and it didn’t take me long, before I found my brothers stash of porn. And then I knew.

That growing understanding combined with a desire to explore…

It was a slippery slope. My first boyfriend would happily spend hours down there, devouring my soul through those lips, eyes blazing with a passion I hadn’t seen before. The worries I had about my lips being so much bigger than those I had seen in the magazines faded into nothingness. He adored them, and with that love I continued to blossom. I soon found out that toys felt amazing, and my time with a vibrator (which belonged to his mum) I reached a new high. The dildo I purchased soon after filling my young pussy, stretching it so beautifully. After we ended I didn’t give up on my practise, I became an expert on my pleasure.

With those expertise came a magnetic effect to the men I fucked.

I used them for my pleasure, often in the most sordid ways, but it was during this time that I realised the power that my pussy had over them. Looking back I can see that they were probably using me for sex as much as I was them, but I also recall the way that just a touch of my wet folds on the dance floor of a local club, or a sniff of my sticky fingers at the bar would light the fires behind their eyes. They were a mix of long-term fuck buddies and strangers I took a fancy to, but the effect was always the same. The loss of my first love put up walls, but this was a great new game that I could play without getting hurt.

I don’t remember all of their names, but the look was more or less universal.

My pussy pride dropped after I met P. Once snared by him my confidence left me entirely, as it would do when someone points out all of the negatives, delves into your perceived fears and drip feeds them back into you. They grow then, but not in the way a beautiful flower would blossom, more like bindweed, choking and stifling all in its path. Those intoxicatingly puffy lips, enjoyed by so many before suddenly became fat lips, too big to suck on, to lust after. He would go down there and fall asleep. Why? Because they weren’t good enough for him. His interest in them piqued when he needed to empty his balls, and if I wasn’t worried he would pester until I gave in.

That isn’t the same as the fires of lust that burn, erotically entwining two (or more) souls.

When I started to take control of my life again, albeit handing over that power to sir, I was given tasks, amazing tasks. They allowed this stifled and abused woman to start to spread her wings again. I had encounters, built my confidence and met M. He had not been interested in sex for a year before we met, his libido had waned and there didn’t seem to be much hope for him. My pussy cured him, the sap suddenly rising, overflowing from an underused well. My magical powers had returned, and once more I saw the fires igniting behind lusty eyes.

I have so much pride in my pussy.

For so long I loathed my body, constantly trying to fit into a box that changed shape. My pussy was the last thing P took control of, and one of the first things I took back. For a while I sought validation through the power that this dripping cunt offered me, and over the last few years I have mellowed.

Accepting the beauty, enjoying sharing it but most of all letting that pride spread to the rest of my body.

 

Thanks to Molly for making me aware of this project.
Pussy Pride
February Photofest

 

Barefoot on a bench for #Sinfulsunday

A barefoot girl on a bench.
A barefoot girl on a bench. Urbstract photography

A barefoot girl on a bench, exposing her secret to those that dare to look.

I have been wanting to share this photo for a little while now, Dan took so many lovely pictures but I didn’t want to bore you with them. Then I read a girl on a bench by Hannah and took it as a sign that now is the time to post. I remember this photo being taken like it was yesterday. The camera clicked at just the right moment, as a breath of warm wind lifted the hem of my dress. My eyes are drawn to the soft arches as I sit barefoot in the sun. I wonder what catches your eye?

Click the lips to see what everyone else is doing this week:

Sinful Sunday

 

Barefoot on a bench for #Sinfulsunday was first posted to A Leap of Faith

Double trouble for #SOSS

sharing is caring

Last week my time slipped away so this weeks #SOSS post is two weeks rolled into one.

This week saw Elust 108  being released. If you haven’t heard of Elust before go and have a look at their blog. Each month sex bloggers submit their favourite posts and these are compiled into a monthly edition of Elust. There are so many exciting posts to read.

I spotted the Godemiche birthday sale a couple of weeks ago and may have invested in some new equipment for my toy box; SO EXCITED!!! I enjoy their videos on YouTube and their recent addition “Beginners guide to Douching/enema” was a fact filled introduction. I’ve been cleansing for nearly four years now, with mixed success, and learnt some interesting new facts to do with the process. I think it is a definite must for all those new to, or nervous about, anal play.

Submiss34f is a wonderful place to while away an hour or so. I love her pictures, but also the humility with which she posts. B is for bar is the post I was originally going to share, a picture she took long ago and that she loves but can see flaws in. Then my week rolled over, and contemplation arrived in my reader. I couldn’t decide between the two so thought I would share both for the double. This is just the tip of the iceberg though…

Submissy often makes me smile, and this week was no exception. Fire and heat is such a candid view of her need, a window into her relationship with HisLordship. The way that I can cycle through intense need and desire is something I was discussing with a fellow submissive last week. He said how hard it is when, through no fault of theirs, that desire isn’t met by D side of the relationship.

A kinky autistic is a blog that popped up this week. My eldest son has a diagnosis of autism and sensory issues so, obviously, I was scanning WordPress for some ideas to help him out. It seems that reader is aware of my likes and sensory sensitivities, sex and SM was suggested for me. Now, this isn’t exactly what I was looking for, and not immediately relevant for a 10-year-old boy. But as always there is a crossover, and I was able to extract some interesting points for my child. She posted this back in May, but I only found it this week.

Hannah Likes Dirty Words is a come back to regularly. She writes some smutty filth (or should that be filthy smut?) and I look forward to her posts in my reader. A girl on a bench, her submission for this weeks Masturbation Monday,  was particularly relatable for me.

A barefoot girl on a bench.
A barefoot girl on a bench.Urbstract Photography

Double trouble for #SOSS was originally posted on A leap of faith.

My fourth Scavenger hunt location.

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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

 

Soul is to be found in the vicinity of taboo.

spit

As I have said M wasn’t into D/s and power exchange, but he was fairly kinky.

There were a few things that he introduced to me which I absolutely loved.The first time he spit in my face was a surprise. Not because he had done it, I had known it was coming, but because of how much I enjoyed it. He always said that he would just get lost in my eyes, the brilliant sparkly blue gateways to my soul and it felt so depraved to have him gaze into them and, while making full use of my pussy, spit into those eyes, forcing them to close… This expansion of my kinks coincided with my youngest discovering he could spit. I have always prided myself on being a good mum, and fair. Now I was having to be hypocritical and tell him off for something that I happily enjoyed with M.

This wasn’t the only thing that I would have to teach my children not to do while embracing as part of my sex life. 

But how did I come round to enjoying the spit? It seems so degrading on the face of it, so disgusting and unloving. I had always found mouths a bit gross, and that included tongues and spit, but as with all things it is the context with which you engage in it. Had he just come up to me and flobbed in my eye I probably would have been appalled and sent him packing with his tail between his legs, but as it was we had discussed why I didn’t like mouths particularly, and over time he got me to enjoy morning breath kisses. For someone who loves ass-to-mouth it may seem strange that morning breath kisses could seem so taboo, but we are shaped by other peoples ideals as children and my mum was very much about not poking out tongues or spitting. (I dare say Ass-to-mouth would have been a big no-no, but she has never witnessed me doing that!!)

With the confidence that enjoying new experiences brings I was soon tempted to try something else that felt so very wrong…. 

My nose buried in his testicles and my tongue lapping at his anus I had an idea. Pulling back I looked at the surprise and mild disappointment on his face, then I got a load of saliva together and spat on his hole…before putting my head back down and pressing my tongue into him deeper than before. The moans that escaped him were exquisite and so arousing. The next time I spat on him he was on all fours, and I had his exposed hole in full view. His enjoyment of receiving the spit and subsequent rimming was evident when he exploded all over his bedding. I’ve never been one to waste cum, so I sucked his mess from the mattress. Again, how can it be so taboo to spit yet I think nothing of hoovering up a puddle of semen?

With his reaction to my actions I wondered what his reaction to his own spit would be like.

The next time we were together we had a very vanilla coming together. It had been a while and I had not had release so I was keen to have a second round. Laying there I spread my legs wide as he knelt between them, reached down and using my fingers I stretched my folds wide apart. As I was about to say “spit on me” I noticed his flaccid cock coming back to life. I had never considered that my spread hole would have this effect. Sir and MrN had been keen to see me continue with stretching while I was under their guidance but it was always in my mind that they would be thinking of what they could put in there, not at what the gaping hole looked like. M’s reaction caused a shift in my thoughts there… Still, I asked him to spit on me and put himself to good use, which he did twice more that evening, and we both fell asleep with daft grins.

We talked in detail about his instant raging erection. It had been as much of a surprise to him as me.

From this point it was only a short hop to him using my face, and I was very happy to experience it with him. Over this period of exploration we experimented with my gaping pussy and both of our spitting in a variety of ways. It turned out that I liked him spitting anywhere on me, but I only felt comfortable doing so on his genitals. I didn’t enjoy using his face, it just didn’t feel right to me. Maybe that is my submissive nature (using my spit for lubricant but not humiliation) or maybe it was the remnants of a slightly conservative upbringing? Either way I had learnt a lot about this new form of play with M and I was very grateful to him for being dirty and to myself for having a sense of adventure.

The look on his face at my gaping pussy will stay with me for a very long time though, and I am also pleased that he enjoyed taking pictures of it for me…

gape

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