Collaboration

I describe Exposing 40 as a collaboration. My strapline is ‘Friends. Photography. Adventure.’ So I really couldn’t let this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt go past unmarked. In the true spirit of the word I decided to produce a collaborative post. I chose my favourite photos of four amazing 40-something women and asked them to send me some thoughts to use alongside them. I don’t really know why I was surprised by their words as all four are so generous with their love, but they made me laugh and cry and I now feel a bit of a plum for creating a post that’s one big love in. I hadn’t intended this to be a willy waving exercise! We hope you enjoy our collaborative post!

Honey
Exposing 40 is a force of nature when it comes to collaboration. I was naked in front of her camera the second time we met – although that time, I’m not sure I was the most easy and relaxed model. Since then, it has been so much fun giggling around places with less and less clothing. I know it is an Exposing 40 day when I am making sure I can whip my clothes off in a flash (and whip them back on again-but that is less exciting). One of the brilliant things about photo adventures with Exposing 40 is the combination of amazing ideas that she comes ready with, or thinks of in the moment and the fact that she is also up for any chaotic ideas of my own. The best thing though is that out of a day of outrageous, soul nourishing giggling and mirth, there is suddenly later the ping of amazing images landing in an inbox. It takes a lot for me to completely relax when there is a camera pointing at me, and yet, Exposing 40 knows that I can’t wait for another chance to strip off and cavort for her. I think that is the gold standard of collaboration. The fear is gone (although there is the tingle of fear of being caught) and the joy of creating together shines through. How she manages to get crisp images of giggling models is her secret to tell.

Maria
When I visited the UK for Eroticon ’17 I knew one of the main things I wanted to do was go on a photo adventure with Exposing 40. I long to take outside photos when I’m on my own at home but for some reason, I’m paralyzed by fear of being seen or getting caught. But when I was with Exposing 40 I felt like I could easily whip my kit off anywhere and the fact that we were together was a magical form of protection. Partly because we were having so much damn fun and partly because I knew that Exposing 40 could talk her way out of any legal or awkward public scrape we might encounter. We took our photos in the loveliest overgrown cemetery, there were sometimes people only yards away, but I felt secure and confident and had the time of my life. Having my photo taken by her, specifically, gave me new eyes to see myself. A pose or angle that I normally would have cut if I were taking the pictures of myself suddenly became beautiful because I was seeing myself, my figure, through her eyes. I felt beautiful in ways I hadn’t before. The other thing I love is that she includes non sex blogger friends on her blog. I am still intensely private about mine at home, so seeing her open up to let people in that way is lovely. And something I am still aspiring to. What breakthroughs could be made in my long-standing friendships if I opened up to them about this aspect of my life?

@19syllables
On our recent daytrip to the seaside Exposing 40 and I made getting a shot for the Sinful Sunday diptych prompt our mission. A diptych is often described as a matching pair of images, but this is not true. The two parts of diptychs are never matching; they are always different but together tell a story. This reminds me of our friendship. Exposing 40 and I are two things that that complement each other, not a matching pair. We have chosen to structure our lives very differently. I am married; committed happily and whole-heartedly to one man for decades (and forever), in what looks from the outside to be a relationship constructed on the traditional, establishment model. Exposing 40 has crafted a more unorthodox, non-monogamous structure for herself which is bespoke to her preferences. She is also actively and joyfully child-free, whereas a central, defining and love-filled part of my life is that I am the mother of four. Sometimes it feels as if the media would like women like us to pitch ourselves against each other; the traditional against the bohemian, but we’re having none of it. She is resolutely happy for me, quick to celebrate my family’s triumphs and console me through inevitable bumps in the road, and I only feel admiration for her choices and the way she conducts herself. Honest to herself and those she connects in a way I have not encountered close-up with anyone else before.

Tabitha
I have always struggled with body confidence – my photos for Sinful Sunday are always carefully curated, 99.9% being trashed. I was so nervous when Exposing 40 approached me for a photo. What if she indeed exposed the truth I felt about my own body? She didn’t, she exposed the beauty I didn’t believe was there. I am so grateful. I love even more when we do a shot together, giggling as the timer goes off. Just lovely. Being photographed by Exposing 40 is thrilling beyond belief- not only at the time where, for that naked half hour your world vibrates with the excited buzz of possibly getting caught – to the moment the photos are sent through. To be photographed from angles you never see of yourself, being able to recognise yourself through another’s eye. To look at a photo somebody else took and not be horrified. It is liberating, exhilarating and has changed every walk I now go on. Now I’m always scouting for the next Exposing 40 location. Thank you my friend, you’ve changed the way I see myself – it’s actually life changing x x x


Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Elust 109

May more Elust 109 Header image swiming naked in a pool

Photo courtesy of Sex Matters ~ May More

Welcome to Elust 109

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #110? Start with the rules, come back September 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

A Picture Is Worth a 1000 Words
House Sitting
Shackles & showers

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Comfort Girl
A Pain in the Neck

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

An idea that didn’t slap me in the face

Erotic Fiction

Solicitation
Masks
Crescendo
The Key to Room 237: Freya – Part 1
Masked Woman

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Mad World
Be afraid…
“Good For Disabled People”
Why I Take Sexy Selfies

Erotic Non-Fiction

SOFT SEX – HARD SEX
Mating Megan
Alone
Face Slapping ~ a controversial issue?
Fuck toy
Lost Pleasure, Found

Thoughts & Advice on Kink and Fetish

Sometimes love don’t feel like it should
Submission

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Why Couldn’t I Just Ask for Lube?
Sensational
I panicked.
Coming in handy
P is for Polyamory
Racy Red

Poetry

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Elust

Dark Passage

Me: “What shall I call your bottom?”

@19syllables: “Dark passage!”

This was the final location on mine and @19syllables’s day trip to Margate at the end of June. The Shell Grotto is a great mystery. A deep and narrow underground passage winding 70 feet down to chamber and decorated with 4.6 million shells. A tiny space where it would seem foolhardy to get naked, for sure. But the echoes of visitors descending the stairs to the passageway are heard long before you see them so why not? I’ve been saving this one for today to mark the birthday girl’s latest orbit of the sun.

Sinful Sunday

House Sitting

On Saturday I was having sex that was so good I decided to dispense with the notion of having an orgasm. That may sound odd, but stay with me…

“I need to water the neighbour’s garden tonight. I decided to wait until this evening so you could come with me have a nosy at the posh house.”

I don’t know if this was the real reason I decided to wait until the evening, or whether deep in my subconscious I had an ulterior motive. I mean, it’s a gorgeous house that anyone would enjoy having a wander round, but still…

The neighbours opposite feature regularly in my sex life. I imagine them admiring his arse as he fucks me over the edge of my bed. I ride my Adam, Doxy pressed to my clit, my curtains open and I wonder whether there’s someone in the shadows watching. “Do you think she’s watching us fuck as she sucks his cock?” is whispered into my ear.

So did I really want to show off their wood-fired pizza oven and the beautiful kitchen tiles imported from Morocco? Or did I like the idea that the next time we got off on the exhibitionist/voyeur potential that two bedrooms that look into each other offers he would have an insider view of the house too?

As I stood watering the plants I watched him walk upstairs. It wasn’t long before I followed. We wandered around commenting on the pristine hotel-like decor of the rooms, all the sheets ironed and cushions perfectly arranged. In the bedroom that looks into mine we discussed him taking a photo of me in my window but agreed the light wasn’t on our side.

As we turned to leave the room I felt his grip on my arms tighten and I could feel myself being manoeuvred. “Not on the bed.” No, not on the bed, me forced to my knees, sucking, spitting and gagging on hard cock. Then pushed onto the bed, trying to maintain the tension in my arms so that I didn’t collapse and crumple the perfect linen. Holding in a giggle as I noticed a spider’s web on the iron bed and found myself thinking “we’re not the first intruders in this room this week.”

“Touch yourself,” came the instruction. And for a while I did. And it felt brilliant. But I was so turned on that my clit was too sensitive. It felt like it does if I’ve been frigging for hours, or over-egging it with the Doxy! When my clit is that sensitive I get little jolts of sharp pleasure that feel like electric shocks, destined to crackle but never explode. So I stopped. I decided to concentrate on all that was good about that moment and not try and make myself come.

I focused on the sensation of cock, driving in and out, then teasing me. It felt so good, and that feeling spread across my whole body in little tingles. When my hair was grabbed and my head tugged up I focused on our reflection in the mirror. I yelped in surprise, pleasure and pain when my nipples were pinched, hard. I turned and looked over to my lounge window and talked of how I imagined him standing in the window and wanking as he watched the neighbour fuck me. I lost myself to the feelings of having my cunt spanked. I love cunt spanking more than arse spanking, and I love having my arse spanked a lot!

Much is written about women and orgasms and ‘well-meaning’ advice for positions that ‘guarantee’ orgasm is regularly shared. For some people these are useful, but I know from the comments I read on my timeline that more often than not they can cause more anxiety than relief for people that may struggle to come during penetrative sex. They add more shame about what our bodies can’t do rather than enjoying the pleasure they do give us.

I used to be very goal oriented during partnered sex but I’m trying to change that about myself. I wrote this post last year laying out why I was going to try and worry less about orgasms. Don’t get me wrong, I have brilliant partners who care very much about my orgasms and are very good at making them happen, it’s just sometimes my brain gets in the way. I wrote then that thinking ‘I’m going to come,’ often chases the orgasm away. That still happens if I think it so I try to just concentrate on everything I love about penetrative sex – the intimacy and cock for cock’s sake. The orgasms come from tongues and toys and fingers!

So it felt good to abandon the orgasm on Saturday. I felt like I was letting my body do the talking rather than letting my mind control my body. And you also know that some fucks are going to keep on giving, long after they’re over. I knew even in the moment that the afternoon was going to deliver many orgasms – they didn’t need to happen there and then. I wanted my takeaway to be all the details, the assault of sensations on my whole body and my mind creating the filthy scenarios that exaggerated the physical feeling, not the memory of forcing an orgasm from an over-sensitive clit.

I rarely dream about sex. I’m always a little bit jealous when someone tweets about waking up from an amazing hot dream. But the filthy memories infiltrated my dreams on Saturday night and I was orgasming even before I got up to make tea on Sunday. And the memory of him standing over me as I lay on the carpet shaking the last of his spunk onto my chest fuelled a later fantasy about multiple men standing over me wanking. It was in my mind at 5.30 this morning when the storm woke me early. So the crashing orgasms came and I’m sure they’ll keep on coming. So yeah, like I said, some fucks just keep on giving.

Happy National Orgasm Day folks, may your orgasms be banging and worry free and at the time that suits you and your body best.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Lido

Today has been earmarked for one of mine and Exhibit A’s weekend photo adventures for a good two or three months – we tend to plan them around Livvy’s weekend shifts so we know quite a way in advance when they’ll be.

Our last weekend outing was to Luxembourg so today had quite a tough act to follow! Various destinations were put in the mix, from long walks to wild swimming spots in rivers and outdoor ponds. In the end a combination of factors meant we didn’t settle on a location until after midday today. First we thought it would be too hot, then it was going to storm…in the end we were both enjoying chilling out in our own spaces so much this morning that we didn’t fancy going too far afield.

We settled on Tooting Lido. Neither of us had been there before so had no idea what a perfect location the changing rooms – reminiscent of 1950s beach huts – would be. Would we be daring enough to snap a nude shot in a busy London lido on a July Saturday? Of course! Would Exhibit A be adamant that I needed to be in the pool shooting up, not on the other side? Yes! Would I make us keep retaking the shot until that bloody red door stayed closed? What can I say? I’m picky! As Exhibit A said afterwards – we make a good photo team!

Sinful Sunday

I love dick (pics)

A month or so back the wonderful Hannah Lockhardt wrote this great post in praise of dick pics. I’m totally with her. I love dick pics. I love being the photographer. Photographing partners and casual lovers is a privilege. I love that they trust me to photograph them, I love the record I have of our times together and I love being able to capture and articulate the male body. I think the male body is a beautiful thing and for me the dick is a fundamental part of that.

But I don’t just love being the photographer; I love receiving dick pics too. I realise that many people don’t: they find them intimidating and/or they’ve arrived uninvited. I’m lucky in that I’ve never received an unsolicited photo. My DMs are closed and I run a pretty tight ship when it comes to giving out my number to people I chat with on dating apps. I’ve only ever received images of cocks I’m either already acquainted with or have a keen interest in getting to know.

For me, the exchange of photos before meeting is hot as fuck. It’s not something I do often, but if the rapport is there and I know I plan on getting naked with someone then a steady stream of photos is the most tantalising appetiser. I’m pretty certain that I wouldn’t have had such a brilliant and hot six hours with this man last summer if it hadn’t been for weeks of messaging and photos that got us super excited to meet in the flesh. And once we’ve met? Well keep them coming! Photos maintain intimacy when distance, primary partnerships, work schedules and family life dictate actual meetings. I’ve been known to whine when the supply of cock shots has tailed off!

Then there’s days like yesterday where I was so hungover that I didn’t get dressed all day. The entire day was spent naked on my sofa satisfying my hangover horn. On days like that I’m a blatant filthy flirt and unashamedly encouraging people to get me off with their photos. The morning brought cock from North London, dripping with pre-cum. In the afternoon I delighted in photos received from across the Atlantic, snapped beneath his desk with colleagues in the next room.

One of the things I love about being sent photos is that the ones a man takes for me are usually so different to the ones I’d take of him. I tend towards ‘arty farty’ shots, ones that are staged or that tell a story. The ones sent in personal chats are often cruder, hotter, less thought through. They demand a physical response rather than an artistic appreciation. But then sometimes one arrives in your phone that really is a work of art and a celebration of cock and then I just go ‘wow’!

Photographer is anonymous but the image is posted with his consent.

Sinful Sunday