Summer Pleasures #6

Wearing white t-shirts…

Just Because I Like It

Montage

I can't write right now...

and I can't even care that I can't write right now.

Would you settle for this?

(it actually does say things...) ;-p

Almost an HNT

Tired, hot, sticky, and crabby people often DO feel better when they do this:

if only I could figure a way to telecommute from here…

(ok, nilla?)

The Meet 'n' Grin

I had kind of a hard time figuring out what to title this post.

I'd thought about "In Which I Crash a Party", but nilla and sofia had actually invited me to join them, even if I did feel a bit like I was barging in on part of their "Wild & Wonderful Subs" Weekend.

Meet 'n' Squeal was another possibility… but there was no squealing, praise the lord. 

There was, however, grinning. 

Lots of it. All 'round.

And thus is a title born…

It was really a lovely, lovely time meeting the two of them. (Altho' I suspect there may have been a moment there when they wondered what they were getting into, exactly?, when I suggested we meet for dinner at the mall… But we had an excellent meal in a relaxing atmosphere, overlooking a superb view, so I think the question mark has been removed from next to my name… *crosses fingers*)

I certainly know that any reservations I may have had melted away almost immediately. There was absolutely no awkwardness or discomfort or even gawky shyness on my part (always a potential danger when meeting new folk.) Instead, conversation flowed smoothly the whole time, with much laughter and liveliness, right up to the point where they kicked us out of the restaurant 3 1/2 hours later...

Sofia is calm and lovely, with a voice pitched low to soothe. She was quick with thoughtful comments and gracious enough not to roll her eyes while nilla and I gabbled on about our gardens. She also excels at maintaining a perfectly neutral demeanor while oh-so-innocently taking you out completely with a description of how you get the cream filling inside a cupcake.

Nilla is a bustling bundle of charm, with a big smile and ready quip at all times. She will giggle until there are tears in her eyes one minute and then amaze you with some fresh insight into the submissive mindset the next. She'll even show you this tentacle picture that she appears to carry with her at all times… ;-p 

I had an absolutely wonderful evening, even if I did feel like the tall weed in a flower garden. ;-)

We mostly talked about our lives and relationships but we didn't forget Blogland.

In fact, we even took a picture for you, our readers…

Behold the Wild & Wonderful Subs - Plus One.

:-D

(I wanna do this again some time!)

Real

I love this picture.

I don't know if these two are actually dom and sub or simply two people modeling for the shoot -- and I don't care. It's a wonderful picture and I love that they published it.

Because this is the human side of BDSM, something you don't always get to see here in Blogland.

I mean, I'm as fond of pretty pictures as the next gal…

But I also get really tired of all the posturing and tropes that so often appear in those pictures. "Inhumanly graceful submissive in attitude of serene acceptance"… "Nubile sub with pert boobs, runny mascara, and pleading eyes"… "Impossibly chiseled man wielding flogger"… "Bitchin' Domme in ridiculous shoes"… You know the stuff I mean. Fantasy stereotypes that have almost nothing in common with what actually goes on for most of us in our lives.

Sure, BG's the one in control, the guy tying the knots and dispensing the bruises. But that control is not gained through fear, intimidation, stern faces, or general bad-assedness. 

Nor does my submission miraculously make me nubile, graceful, or serene.

Rather, this is a relationship. There's give and take on both sides, there's caring, there's respect, there are real people here, doing real people type things.

Like laughing together, even at the darndest moments.

I want to see more pictures like this.

Oh, dear...

It's my habit to send him weekly pictures of things I find attractive, compelling, hot… 

Not everything implies, "Please, sir?", but an awful lot of the ideas do show up (even if in modified form) at some future play date.

This time, I also tacked on one that had made me laugh because it's just so over the top.
I called it, "An example of someone who has too much rope and time on their hands…"

"I dunno. They all look equally good to me."

*gulp*

I REALLY hope he's talking in the abstract…!

Waaaaant! (#6)

Who IS this man?
And more importantly, does he like tall, pudgy chicks?

(yeah, ok, I think we already know the answer to that one but a girl can dream, can't she?)

"Dear Cupid, I know this is kind of short notice but ..."

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...

OK, last discourse for Wench Week 2013.
This one is really more of a big ol' note to myself, gone all "open letter to the world", but here we go...

Charity begins at home.
As reasonably thoughtful adults, most of us have mastered the concept that words can hurt. We know there's such a thing as verbal abuse, that it does damage, and that we should treat the people we encounter with care, if not outright kindness.

So why do we so often consider ourselves the exception to that rule?

I am past master at this, myself.
Some of it is hyperbole for humorous effect, some of it falls under the "best defense is a good offense" heading (if I say it first, you can't use it!), some of comes from my mom -- "Don't blow your own horn, honey - that's VERY unattractive."

No matter the root, however, ALL of it is purely habit, rarely flattering, and pretty darned convincing, to myself as well as to others. (SP says it's a tribute to my eloquence that even tho' he knows me, he's always pleasantly surprised when he looks at pictures of me.)

And yes, it has done damage.
Not necessarily debilitating damage, mind you, but I have certainly managed to warp and skew my own self-image so much through the years that I probably couldn't pick The Real Me out of a line-up. (Unless I had on my nice paper-bag mask, of course...)

So the moral of the story is:
Please let's remember to talk as nicely to ourselves as I know we do to others.

(And if anyone wants to join me in a Pact to Eliminate the Use of the Expression "lard-ass self",  there are sign up sheets posted below...)

Oh, and I almost forgot!
For Tom (and with a nod to Hedone for her suggestion):
     The Obligatory Annual Wench Boob Shot.

(Remember, blinking creates the illusion of heavage!)

TMI Tuesday

You Wear It Well

1. What is your most favourite thing to wear that you have in your closet at the moment?
     A very long, flowy, boho cotton skirt in swirls of reds, cream, and bronze.

2. What is the one item of clothing that you have seen on someone that you would steal for yourself if you had the chance?
     A butter-soft, detail-free, streamlined, black leather jacket.

3. What is the one thing that your partner wears that never fails to turn you on. Why does it turn you on so much?
     His Levis and a starched button-down shirt.
     He looks hot, plus I know it's coming off soon!

4. What is the one thing you wear when you want to attract the attention of your partner?
     This usually works...

6. If you had unlimited funds but could only shop for one type of clothing (shoes, lingerie, fetish etc) what would it be?
     I would have a really hard time deciding between shoes and slutty lingerie.
(Cuz if I had unlimited funds, I wouldn't need to worry that I didn't have a thing for work, right?)

Check out the other TMI'ers here.

Interventionist Wanted:

To accompany whimsy-loving pain-slut on shopping expeditions and assist in realistic evaluation of impulse purchases.

(it seemed like a good idea at the time...)

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!

Vanity, Thy Name is Gumby...

A sweet elderly friend of mine was bemoaning the fact that her 88 years of life have caught up to her and her ankles are now a bit puffy, no longer the neat joint she's been so proud of most of her life. She fretted that I'd think she was being silly to mourn the loss of such a trivial vanity -- but I completely get it.

We're all vain about something, even if it's something sort of ridiculous. For example, my vanity is my collarbone. Not the favorite of most, perhaps, but that has always been my body part of choice.

A small thing but mine own...

Recently, however, I discovered that I had another vanity that was so deeply ingrained, I hadn't even realized it was one. I had thought it was just a thing. But that thing is currently AWOL - and the degree of betrayal and annoyance I feel toward my body for "failing me" makes it quite clear this wasn't "a thing" - it was a (*hair toss, studiedly casual shrug*) "What, this ol' thing?" thing.  (*preen, preen*)

See, I have danced since I was three -- and was been blessed with Gumby genes from both side of the genetic equation. Whether fat or thin, in shape or out, I have always been able to make my body do pretty much whatever I want, without even having to think about it. Except, … well, it's been a rough year.

I had a foot injury over the summer, ripped a muscle in the fall, and then concussed myself this winter. By the time I got around to working on moving normally again, disconnect had set in.
My normal? - ain't no more.
I've got shortened muscles, flexibility at about half of norm, and most alarming to me, I've lost my dancer's square. (Well, I still see it, I just can't stay in it anymore!)

Yep, Gumby has left the building.

Now, the good news is that this is not the same as 88-year old ankles.
I can remedy this situation, and I WILL, by golly!
But how? I'm still occasionally tippy and nowhere near ready to join a gym. What can I do at home, reliably, in any kind of weather?

Weeding through my iPhoto albums, I found my answer.
Not to mention a new hero:



I now own every single instructional DVD of this woman's that I can find and I'm going to do them over and over and over and over -- until I dance  Just. Like. Her.
It will probably take until my next lifetime, but it'll be worth it, don't you think?
It's good to have a goal...

Placeholder / Q&A Alert

I have this post that is lodged firmly somewhere between brain and fingers, one that just won't come out but won't shift aside and let anything else slip past, either. I'm on Day Five of the struggle and at this point, it's become a matter of principle.
I Will Triumph, dammit! So please bear with me...

All the dead air, however, makes it seem like a good time to throw my hat into the "It's March! Ask Me Anything!" ring. Questions don't have to be BDSM-related, they can be about normal, run of the mill stuff, too. I reserve the right to protect my privacy, of course, but if the answer won't out me, it will be forthcoming.
(But no limericks this time, please. Those are for special occasions only!)

While we're on the subject of questioning things, however, does this strike anyone else as a little over-ambitious, or is it just me?

Hands

if I'm not restrained I will usually touch him
flatten my hands against his skin and just feel.
He never stops me but he doesn't always respond.

sometimes, however, he will place his hands on top of mine.
nothing more. there's no caress -
but he touches, presses, ... holds

connection made.
circuit complete.

In Case You Were Wondering...

Here's some of what I did on my little vacation from BlogLand:

  I applied (and was rejected) for the job of my dreams.
(This was the start of the decline...)

  I discovered that they make a Boston Creme Pie ice cream.
       OMFG!
(No, no correlation between those two points, why do you ask?)

  I priced out a little mini-vacation.

  I achieved a state of hysteria over the condition of my finances.

  I ate anything that wasn't nailed down.
(except the Boston Cream Pie ice cream, which was long gone.)

  I made a new budget.

  I took up yoga.
(perhaps you've heard the anguished screams of my hamstrings?)

  I went to a conference and fell in love with my career all over again.

  I plodded through the most relentlessly earnest book it has ever been my misfortune to read. (Book club obligation)

  I raked a ton of gravel out of my lawn and retrieved all the bits of sod scattered by the plows throughout the course of the winter.

  I iced my back.

  I culled 60 gallons worth of weeds, clippings and leaves from the two smallest of my four gardens.

  I iced my back some more.

  I braved the dark, scary, DUSTY corners of my shoe closet.
And, emboldened, went on to clean beneath my bed.

and, oh yeah, I also did this:

Except there was also a vibe laid atop my clit, a flogger whaling away at all exposed bits, and a deep voice warning, "Don't let that vibrator fall!"

I did contemplate ice afterward - but couldn't bring myself to do it...

Wench Week 2011 - Day One

OK, time to eliminate that "b" word for a week again!
I ran through a number of alternate titles but I decided that, really, I hadn't sucked all the fun out of being a wench last year. So, I'm going with that again.

SP informs me, however, that to properly be a wench, there must be a lot of heaving, exposed bosom on display. Apparently I lost points for that last time 'round.

In the spirit of cooperation and wench-like abandon, then, I present the extremely rare personal photo. I just happen to have a pretty new bra:

I do realize, however, that this picture is static.
The bosom heaves not.

I suggest blinking rapidly ...

(Have I mentioned I feel like someone glitter-glued my boobs?)

A Nursery Rhyme

This is the wax
That coated the breast
That wore the clip
That, like the rope
And even the wheel,
Came out of the box
That was opened today where Jz lives.

Happy Belated Birthday, Sir!

Believe

December 31st and the holiday season is winding down...

We celebrated by getting out there and being nice to strangers. (You DID all do that, right?!?) Now let's direct that stream of kindness toward ourselves.

My New Year's wish for all of us is to Believe.
Believe that there's a light at the end of the tunnel.
Believe that things do work out in time.
Believe in ourselves.

(And in Mike Rowe showing up on my doorstep, flowers in hand...)

Happy 2010, Everyone!

The Sum of the Parts?

Or some of them, anyway.
Don't ask my why I got the bug up my nose to post this.
I just did and it won't go away. So, here.
Pieces of me: