What's Your Understanding...

... of this?

He was washing up, I was drying. I can't remember why he asked, but he asked me when I was flying out.

I told him when and then followed up with a silly voice and a bump of shoulders 'Will you miss me?'

His hands went still, he focused on the soapy water and said, 'No, but my heart will.'


This is an actual conversation I had. Boys, what does this mean? Ladies feel free to chip in too.

Does food alway equal sexy?

Do you find this passage erotic? Feedback received with thanks.

It had been a very long time, she reached forward and took the cracker from his outstretched fingers. She held it, looking at it with consideration until she had calmed down. Then she brought it up to her face, past her lips to her nose where she inhaled deeply. She took in the smoky aroma of the fig, sliced to reveal the tiny yellowed seeds before taking in the creamy mouldy smell of the cheese. The cracker had a dusty aroma of its own, but nothing compared to the fig and cheese. She opened her mouth wide and placed the combination on her tongue then slowly closed her lips around it. She held it there before moving her jaw to crush the flavours together, releasing them onto her taste buds. She closed her eyes and hugged herself as saliva flowed, washing the tastes around her mouth then ultimately down her throat. After she’d swallowed she continued to stand there with her eyes closed. Breathing deeply, reliving the sensations all over again before she realised there was a pile of cheese and figs in front of her and disapproving eyes where nowhere near. She took a lump of brie and put a fig on it, she didn’t bother with the cracker, it was a filler; no purpose but to stop you from consuming too much of the expensive King Island Double Brie.

Poll Results

In the recent poll, What is the largest number of dates you’ve had in one 24 hour period?
It turns out the biggest tart by fitting in 4 dates and 25% of the vote, is me. The other 75% are more sedate, fitting in just two.

No one voted, (but then, there where only 4 votes, mine included) for 3, 4, 5 or more than 5. We really are a fairly sedate lot, aren’t we?

Try the new poll, it's all about sensation.

The Catsuit

You've been asking for it, so here it is. The Catsuit.

It is accompanied by a hood, gloves and a cincher. Of course it goes all the way to my ankles were I am wearing the boots mentioned here ;-)

My not-boyfriend took the picture, not bad considering he had no idea how to use my camera. Afterward we took full advantage of the outfit and the extra lube/shine spray that was used for the extra gloss.

PS. This is likely the most you’ll ever see of my face on this blog, enjoy it!

My Catsuit

Today it hangs forlornly in the hall near the radiator gathering warming (drying) rays. Last night it was matched with a hood, my funky boots and gloves to completely cover me in a second skin, leaving only my eyes and mouth exposed.

God, I was hot!

Is it just me...

...that thinks the current fashion of light shoes with black opaque tights is just wrong?

The white ones I saw on the train station a couple of days ago, she was sat next to me, I tok this picture not only because she was wearing white shoes with black tights, but because the shoes were scuffed and tatty looking. Eww!

The purple horrors were on George Street outside Wynyard today. Yes, this was a young professional lady dressed in all black except the shoes.

These ladies have taken perfectly nice shoes (although I'm not 100% about the lilac matellic) and turned them into fashion nightmares. But that's just my humble opinion.

When did the 80s start again?

Sandcastles

Something hit me like a truck about 5.30 yesterday afternoon as I drove back for my weekend away with my Not Boyfriend. I’m deeply in like with this man.

We had spent the previous 46 hours together. We chatted, briefly, he’s the strong silent type when he’s not begging me to spank him harder. We’d laid on the beach together, he’d slept while I built a sandcastle (yes I know I’m supposed to be 35). We’d slept in separate rooms. I’d been introduced to his parents and family and mentioned at least five or six times that we were simply friends and not an item when asked. I’d laid next to him in his bed wearing a t-shirt and pants (knickers) while we watched a movie. We played pool together. We’d walked along a beach together in the sunshine. We’d fed baby kangaroos.

But it was at 5.30 as I drove home, him sat by my side shuffling the tunes on the iPod, that that feeling of sadness and mild despair hit me. This is never going to be more. He’s not even open to it being more. Do I withdraw from the situation to prevent further longing and potential heart ache or do I cling to the moments we have and enjoy them?

I’ve come to the conclusion that I am going to enjoy the time we have together even if that never again involves me donning the latex. I simply enjoy his company. I’m going to go on, day by day knowing that in the middle of June I’m going to board a plane for an indefinite amount of time and that may or may not wash away all that we’ve built. Very much like the waves melt away sandcastles.

My Not Boyfriend

Rubbermaid seems to have been promoted. It very odd and I think I’ve spoken of this before, but despite conversation about NOT having a ‘relationship’ we appear to be having one.

This weekend, I’m meeting his parents. As a friend of course.
He has a toothbrush in my bathroom. For those occasional sleepovers.
He comes to my house and watches telly. We don't always play or have the sex.
We go to the movies. And actually watch the film we paid to see.

Did I mention I’m meeting his parents?

Serial Date

A couple of weeks ago I had an interesting evening. I managed to have drinks with four different guys on one night and still sleep alone. Trust me when I say that take talent, no drinking and drive home that take thirty minutes.

It started with the Engineer. I’ve been chatting to him on and off for about six month on email. We met in a bar on Oxford Street for a drink. Why this night, well he doesn’t live in Sydney and was in town and free for one night only. So a drink at The Bar it was. As I had to drive home at the end of the night I was on soft drinks all night plus I was going to Sydney’s only fetish club so I was dressed in an ankle length skirt, white shirt, black and white striped tie and a corset. Even on Oxford Street that stands out.

I have never been so bored in all my life. He could only talk about steel rods and their role in the building of good bridges. I tried football, but he didn’t follow AFL, NRL or UK Premier League. Movies weren’t his thing, neither was music. It was steel rods and spanking only. Ordinarily, this is a good combination, but after two hours even that losses it appeal. I put him in a cab back to his hotel about 10.30.

I walked down the road to the club. Who should be there but the Wanton Slut. He wasn’t due to come as we had discussed only earlier in the week that we could make one of his sordid little fantasies come true. The idea was this; blindfold him, tie him to a chair in the corner, hang marker pens and a magnifying glass round his neck and invite club goers to write on him. He bottled, saying his sister wanted to attend with him. Well he wasn’t with his sister, but an ex-girlfriend, and from the looks I got while chatting to him I was clearly not required.

I got a text message.

It was The Shoe Shopper. A Dom of older years than myself and someone who really wants me to submit to him. Just at the moment, I’m finding the idea very difficult. I have too much going on to be anything other than the strongest I can be. I feel like submission would be my undoing right now. Anyway, I walked back up to The Bar and had a couple of drinks with him. We talked about family death, shoes, fashions of today and Japanese rope bondage. It was very nice, but I didn’t need the pressure of being asked if I would let him tie me up.

After I put him in a taxi home, I walked back into the Club. I saw Wanton Whore again, briefly. Then I wandered around the place. I watched those dancing the night away in PVC, latex and skimpy outfit purchased at fancy dress shops. How many I wondered had chemical assistance to enjoy themselves? Walking though this place a singleton is an interesting experience, even while dress Domme. You get the up and down looks, the curl of the lip and subs that come up to you and say while glancing up through their eyelashes, ‘I like your outfit.’

Finally was Shark Fin. A guy I have contacted though ALT, but turned out to be a regular goer to the Club. In fact, I had admired him on many occasions for his amazing body wrapped head to foot in latex and a stunning Shark Fin backpack. We ran into each other, and had a drink, a brief chat and parted ways. By this time it was gone two in the morning and I still had to drive home. I think we’ll spend longer together next time, but at least now we met.

Also, I set a personal best. Drinks with four different guys on one night and no between the sheet action.

New Boots

My absence can be explained by a trip back the old country to visit a sick relative. But I’m back for now (may be off again, but it will be long term so I’ll resume duties while there) and I have a little something for you.

I picked up my new boots today. I ordered and paid for them weeks ago. In fact, I ordered them the day after I order my latex cat suit. I think these little beauties with work a treat with it.