busy, busy, busy...

Even with more daylight, there still aren't enough hours in the day.
However, I find if you listen to these guys, they can help you keep up!
(bobbly camera work but I LOVE this song...!)
(you can stop after 2:40)



Should have a little more time to breath/write after the weekend.
Enjoy!

I Completely Miss the Boat - Yet Again

I don't even know where I'm going with this but it's something that has been really bugging me so I'm just going to throw it out there and then go hide under that rock I stole from lil...
(Oh, and warning -- some degree of grossness ahead.)

BG sent me a link to a very long, very hot video. After watching it, I asked him what his favorite part was. "Where she's giving a blow job and she doesn't swallow any of her saliva, so it becomes a ropey mess all over her mouth and face."

Strange, that part made me quite uncomfortable and longing for a washcloth...  (seriously, this woman was drool from hairline to boobs)

So I shared BG's opinion with SP -- who had also seen the video.

"Oh, yeah. That was hot!"
"The spit all over over her face?"
"Yeah, it's great!"
"Yuck! Uncomfortable and there's probably snot all mixed in, too."
"Well, du'uh! yeah..."
"What if he kisses me and takes in snot...?!?"
"We're big boys, we know what we're doing."
"Spit and snot -- this is attractive to you?? ... Really?"
"It's all about complete obedience to what I demand. There is your edge and that's what it looks like there."

crap.

I remember once reading a post by a Dom (Tristan, maybe? I miss Tristan...) that discussed how a sub's beauty lay not in her physical looks but in her total submission. My brain can see the point. But even if I can see it, I'm not sure I can bring myself believe it, at least not in this instance.
Not even so much because of the gross factor or that I'm afraid I'll completely skeeb him out.
It's that stupid vanity thing again. (Move over, gg...)

I know my focus is to please him.
I know that my opinion is completely irrelevant to his wishes.
I know I'm supposed to not care.

But it's really, really hard, as a woman with not a lot of delusions about her looks, to consider willingly obscuring what smidgeon of pretty you might possess by burying it under a blanket of smeared nasal discharge. Sorry, it just IS.
I want to be pleasing and pretty. (ish)

Snot as an indicator of full submission... Who knew??
:trudges dejectedly away:

Small but Significant Thing #8

One of the things I really, really like about BG?
He both uses -- and spells! -- the word "wont" correctly. 

*...dreamy sigh...*

(Um, did I just out myself as a complete geek?)

Love, Hate, and Guilty Secrets

TMI Tuesday
I figure since I came up with this week's questions, I'd really better play! ;-)
****************************
We never mind telling people about things we love or hate, but how about the things we love, but would hate for anyone to find out about?
****************************

1. Food

     I love Pad Thai (but you knew this...)
     I hate pears
           (it's a texture thing) 

     My guilty secret is Cheez Waffies
           (It's like Hedone knew...!)


2. Apparel

      I love flowy, bohemian skirts
 
     I hate wearing shoes
           (altho' hoarding them is quite another matter!)
     My guilty secret is ... ruffles ...  *bows head*
           (I can't wear them but I nurture a secret passion for them...)


3. Books

 
     I love anything by Gerald Durrell  (not to be confused with his brother Lawrence, whose prose has been known to make my eyes roll back in my head...)
 
     I hate early 20th century literature - with exceptions.


     There are no guilty secrets in books.
           Say it loud, I read and I'm proud! 


4. Songs

           This is a tough one because I really, really like music and the "Now Playing..." selection in the jukebox of my mind is ever-changing. But, taking a stab at it for right this second...
     I love Fresh Feeling - Eels
     I hate I Hope You Dance - Lee Ann Womack (more bad associations than the tune but still, I can't listen to it - so no link.)

     My guilty secret is MMMBop - Hanson (It's just so frickin' happy!)
           (I'm also prone to bursting out in old Methodist hymns too, but I'm not sure I should label those a guilty secret...)

5. Movie

      I love Notting Hill - a perennial "feel-good" favorite.
      I hate slasher flicks ("GoreNo Girl")

     My guilty movie secret? Bubba Ho-Tep
           Brilliant -- but definitely, um, quirky...
         
6. TV Show

 
     Don't watch TV so I must disqualify myself from this one...

7. Celebrity Crush

 
     I love Ewan McGregor
           (and throw in a in kilt...?! *oof*)
     Hate is a strong word, but...
           Say No to Steven Segal
     My guilty secret crush is Tommy Lee.
           He's basically just one big hot mess but I would still totally do him -- and then pray that no one would ever find out!


8. Music Group

     I <3 Cowboy Junkies 
           I could listen to "The Trinity Session" forever...
 

     I genuinely dislike The Eagles.
           (reeeeelly...)
     My guilty secret is Daler Mehndi
           (Well, actually I'm not at all embarrassed to like him but he does usually require explanation, at least here in my little corner of the world...) 


9. Sports
(I really don't follow sports so it would be pointless to try naming teams)
     I love SUMO!!!!
     I hate almost any sport popular with the average American male.
           football, baseball, basketball... they're just not sumo.

     My guilty secret is: ???
           hey, if I'm not embarrassed by sumo...!

No, no Bonus.
Nope... Stop looking...
Move along! There's nothing more to see here...

Duvet Dangers

To stay snug on these chilly nights, my bed sports a big, fluffy down comforter, encased in a soothing sage-green coverlet, sitting on top of my soft mattress. It's pleasant to snuggle beneath, cozy and inviting to look at -- but challenges lurk beneath it's peaceful exterior…

I am firmly trussed, tits wrapped tight, hands cinched and bound just beneath my shoulder blades. Clips are applied to my nipples, the flogger is wielded with unerring precision.
I begin to move toward that happy, drifty place just on the horizon…

A sharp sting as the clips are yanked off and I'm turned to face the bed.
"Climb up and bend over…"

I scramble to comply, only to find my face sinking deep into down. After huffing fruitlessly at the suffocating fabric invading mouth and nostrils, I turn and balance on my forehead, instead. Better...

The flogger is traded in favor of his hand.
(I never can decide which I like best...)

*smack! smack!*
   "oh, Sir!"
*smack! smack! smack!*
   "oh god, Sir!"
*smack! smack! smack!*
*smack! smack!* *SMACK!*
*smack! smack! smack!*
   "uuunnhh! Ssss-uununnhHH!!"

My floaty little dinghy bumps gently aground at the happy, drifty place.
Lost, I bob (forehead first) on the waves running through my body.

"Now straighten up…"

   huh?
   up?
   wha'…?
   oh… ok…

This shouldn't be hard. Really.
Just tuck and tighten, right?

But my knees are sliding on 3 inches of silky feathers, my mind is still afloat in Happy Drifty Harbor, and (I'm not done milking this one yet!) have I mentioned my recent debilitating injury and ensuing loss of muscle control?!?

I go through five abortive attempts before struggling successfully to my knees. As I exhale my "oof!" of triumph, I hear a deep chuckle behind me. Without thinking, I look over my shoulder and stick my tongue out at him. Fortunately, he's too amused to do more than give me a single swat -- which topples me face down in the feathers again.

So now I'm back at square one, except with a case of the giggles thrown in on top of everything else…

Reason #843 Why I Stick Around:
We do have fun. :-)

Pranayama-weenie

So, I decided to kick the bellydancing up a notch and incorporate some yoga moves into my workouts. I am assured by Ms. Rachel Brice that this will greatly enhance my dance form. And I think it fair to say that if I end up being able to bend like this, she is correct...

(Altho' if that ever does happen, be on the lookout for flying pigs, 'k?)

Yesterday was Day One of this new initiative and I was ready, by gum!
I rolled out my mat, turned on the DVD player, assumed a half-lotus position, and promptly hit a snag.

Yoga Breathing.
Way, WAY too slow for me.

Apparently, I've also lost lung capacity along with my other Gumbyc traits -  and trying to match my breathing to the glacial pace of hers had me gasping before we even started the poses.

(Does it count as an aerobic workout if  your heart is racing solely from the fact that you're wheezing like a consumptive water buffalo? Because if so, this may be the most effective exercise I've done in years! Just think of the benefits when I add actual movement!)

And no, the answer is NOT to take up breath play, OK?!
Bad idea.
Just, really... bad idea.