I don’t look into their windows and assume they don’t look into mine. What are they going to see, anyway? A medium- sized, middle- aged woman rolling off her airbed and padding into the kitchen to shake oats into a pan, eat applesauce from the jar with a spoon as the porridge plaps quietly,…
I’ve never really written about my username. It’s a quote from a William Blake poem: He who binds himself to a joy Does the winged life destroy He who kisses the joy as it flies Lives in eternity’s sunrise. I don’t know if I have a favourite poem as such, but this comes close. It…
CN: This is a story about consensual emotional sadomasochism. It is entirely fictional. Well… almost. He is such a man, almost laughably so, wearing masculinity like a Crombie coat. Laughable to you at least, you who have always been drawn towards a certain feyness in a man- a cigarette held at that…
This is my first #soss post- I’m trying to impose the structure of the meme onto my chaotically ADDled brain, and formally send shouts out to the fabulous writing of some of my fellow bloggers. (Actually, even saying that feels weird- do I really feel like I can call myself a blogger? I have a…
1. What is sexy time to you? Is this question asking what time of day I most associate with Sexy Time? I don’t have an answer to that question. I am as much a fan of night- time nookie as I am of breakfast bangin’ and midday monkey- business. I have always believed that, as…
An old friend of mine just sent me an email. It wasn’t just to me- she’s set up a mailchimp newsletter. The email was about secrets- she has just made a journey to tell a huge, life- changing truth to people who needed to hear it, and when she writes about the process her words…
I’m scrolling through my timeline, and there she is. Paper white skin, wine- red lips, long limbs and cartoon curves. She’s standing in front of a mirror with her lips very slightly open, seemingly as transfixed by her own beauty as the rest of the world must be. Her magic is common to all…
red walls red lights two ghosts, on a bed, laughing you can always make new memories a man says to me- minutes later I taste the words in his mouth, lick his words off my thigh. I put the memory in the box where I keep all my precious things. two hungry…
3. The Cathedral I turn onto my side, my phone in my right hand, my left slipped between the cushiony warmth of my belly and the scratchy lace of my g- string. My little fingertip brushes wire and furze but this hand will move no lower, not today, whatever the temptation. And this is some…
1. Hopefully We meet in a club, the one with the red- walled room and the strings of fairy lights, the club I have come to think of as kinky Tiffany’s: nothing bad could ever happen to me here. We are queuing for the loo and strike up conversation; he says he is not kinky-…