On Friday I went to Shape of Light, 100 Years of Photography and Abstract Art at the Tate Modern. Lots of my old favourites were there – Brassai, Man Ray, Bill Brandt, Imogen Cunningham – plus many new finds; I’d really recommend it!
I decided to play around with my camera to try and get an abstract shot for today, but in the end I liked this one the best. Not really abstract but I like the simplicity and symmetry.
The Wheel of Photography spinner delivered minimalist and chair as my prompts.
(n.) desire to stay in the sun; love of sunlight
My lounge windows are huge. At this time of year, as early evening rolls around, the sunlight floods in and bathes the room and all who are in it in gold. Fresh out of the shower and still damp, one of my favourite things to do is just bask in the glow.
I had some hand jobs to do this week. My dull and tarnished ring was buffed to a high shine and I got my first summery manicure of the year. I thought I’d showcase the outcomes.
Photo courtesy of Mrs Fever
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I lost my sexuality for a year.
Bright English Mornings
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Flavour of Femme
She Teaches Sex Ed!
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Rites of Passage Training – Sensual Details.
More than Friend’s: Chloe’s video
Molly: The First
Sometimes I talk too much
His Dirty Rhythm
In case you didn’t get fucked last night.
The Girl in Fishnets
Let’s Play a Game
Abandoning the Sofa
Smacked around a bit
Fuck You [Redacted]
Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor
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The Catastrophe of Ageing
Body Talk and Sexual Health
What it’s like to model nude for art classes
Tip Your Artists
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Life… grief, depression and disability
Living with Chronic Lyme Disease
Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish
The edge of glory
F/m Reader Q&A (audio with full transcript)
Teasing & Torment
Guest Post: Interview with Violet Fawkes
A landmark event for MPB – Public Play
“Turn round and get on all fours.” My mind will still occasionally drift back to my first experience of doggy, on a futon mattress in a flat in Acton, more than half a lifetime ago.
I love flashbacks. Moments become a library of visual stimulation I flick through when I’m alone, settling on the one that’s right for right now. The memories most frequently pulled from the shelf almost always involve fucking from behind.
Me, pushed over the bed. Him, his arse to my bedroom window. “Are you thinking about your neighbours watching us?” Yes, yes I am.
Crack. A new lover’s hand meets my arse, and my face is pushed further my pillow. He later comments on how hot my sound of appreciation was at that first smack. There’s nothing like the first time you realise someone is good with their palms.
“Watch this,” he says as he chucks his phone down in front of me. The sensations overwhelm me as I simultaneously feel him and watch us.
3am on a too-hot summer night. We are still awake. My lounge windows are low and knelt in front of them I can lean out of the window and grip the outside window ledge, biting my lip so I don’t let my sounds echo in the silent street.
Fresh from afternoon tea, I’m dressed like a lady. In the toilet near his office he bends me over and pushes my flowery frock up over my arse. I sit on a packed commuter train home with my knickers in my handbag. The next time I wear the dress is to a wedding and I smile at the memory as I sit in the church.
On my knees in front of my mirror, watching his hands on my hips and expressions of pleasure dance across his face.
Our eyes lock over her back as he fucks her, her face between my legs.
Ping. An email arrives moments after he leaves. A photo to add to the memory bank…
And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river
For men may come and men may go
But I go on for ever.
Alfred Lord Tennyson