Bedroom Closet

I some­times think I’m an anom­aly.  As a woman I feel like I am sup­posed to enjoy long erot­ica.  Deeply descrip­tive and detailed sto­ries.  The kind where every kiss is lin­gered upon, every emo­tion felt, each touch described.  On occa­sion I do enjoy the sto­ries, but a lot of the time I am just look­ing for a fix.

I skip through the story, I rush to the steam, I skip over every­thing and read the cli­max over and over fin­gers work­ing with the words in my mind.  I like it fast and dirty.  I look for the sto­ries that are so far beyond my expe­ri­ence.  I look for sit­u­a­tions that I can’t even fathom in my real life.

That’s not nec­es­sar­ily what I like in real life, it’s not always what I write.  I laugh at my impa­tience often.  I won­der if other woman are the same way, rush­ing to the point of impact.

Sim­i­larly I won­der if oth­ers find them­selves think­ing things while fuck­ing that may not appeal in real life.  The foulest of lan­guage, being called the filth­i­est of words, imag­in­ing whis­pers that aren’t there, unable to say them out-loud.  Think­ing why?  Would I really want to be told these things, to be called these names, but get­ting wet­ter each time they are mut­tered in your imagination.

There are things that I think that I couldn’t utter, that I haven’t really writ­ten.  I’ve got­ten close, but not crossed that line.  Simon is an amaz­ing man, and would indulge any whim of mine, but often the whim is in the thought alone…

I can’t always under­stand why I don’t share.

Then there are the times when no thought of kink passes through my head.  When a sim­ple fuck then sleep is enough, more than enough, and I won­der how is it I am the same per­son as I was when I was think­ing such filth.

Just thoughts, emp­ty­ing my head, before I look for my inspi­ra­tion tonight…

I’ve been so busy bak­ing we for­got our HNT…but the per­fect oppor­tu­nity pre­sented it’s self.

But I haven’t really wanted too.  Too much work not enough play.  But if Santa by chance gave me one of the lovely corsets, waist clinch­ers, or the NJoy 11, I’d def­i­nitely have time to play.

FetLife Santa, slide down my chim­ney

I’ve tried to be naughty but Ava just doesn’t have the right corset for the task! Help Me

It’s been cold here.  Very Cold.  So cold that I am rarely more than half naked, and Simon.  Well, Simon is always half naked but even he has had to take steps to keep warm. 

Or, just watch­ing Simon dec­o­rate.  He helps with those places I just can’t reach

Chicago isn’t halfway, but it’s about the same cost for each of us to fly there. You guys get tick­ets, we get tick­ets. We share a suite at … Arrive Fri­day; leave Sun­day. In between. Who knows.…

Inter­ested?

I’m not sure that you have all seen this blog, or this par­tic­u­lar post.  But I have, and although I seri­ously doubt I will be even in the top 5 I wanted to throw in my hat.  Because, well, because I have devel­oped and bit of a crush on Mina.  I won’t say mine is the most extrav­a­gant, but it’s what I would do.  If they like it over at Long­ings End, I’ll elab­o­rate and turn it into a bit more of a story

The ride back from the air­port would be our first time really together, in per­son, close enough to touch.  I think I would have to restrain myself, know­ing all that I do about her.  I won­der to myself if she’ll be sur­prised, dis­ap­pointed, excited.  The cab waits as instructed as I step out to pace.  I see her exit­ing, a medium suit­case in tow.  I had told her to bring some­thing warm to wear, among other things.  The L.A. weather being sig­nif­i­cantly dif­fer­ent than our own.

I almost panic and dive back into the cab.  I know she would be crushed, but it’s almost too much.  What if she is dis­ap­pointed, what if I don’t come near her expec­ta­tions or desires.  Then it’s too late.  She glances over and my arm shoots up in a wave.  Relief flows over me when a fan­tas­tic smile and wave respond.  I meet her halfway and we hug.  Friendly but lin­ger­ing, feel­ing the curves, get­ting an idea of how we fit together.  We approach the cab and she seems some­what sur­prised.  This is how we get around.  No car, no need for it.  I had wor­ried about her responce for no rea­son.  “Fan­tas­tic, “she says, “they can be such a pain in.”

The ride to the cities passes quickly, con­ver­sa­tion and laugh­ter fills the cab, and soon we are like old dear friends, except with a lit­tle more spark.  A touch of the shoul­der, or brush of a thing sends waves of excite­ment through me.  I can only won­der what it does to her.

We have options I tell her.  The weather, though brisk if actu­ally quite beau­ti­ful.  It’s a far cry from L.A. but to me it’s almost spring like.  When we arrive at my place again, I am con­cerned with her thoughts.  I would have put her up in the best hotel in the city, but it just wasn’t an option at the time.  She knew that she was wel­come to stay at our place, and if she didn’t want to then we would fig­ure some­thing out.  Again I was pleased at her sweet­ness.  My place was won­der­ful, dif­fer­ent, com­fort­able.  She was look­ing for­ward to see­ing every­thing I had to show her.  I would have thought she was just being gra­cious and kind, but as she took my hand and drew me into another hug I knew she meant it.  I couldn’t help but respond with a kiss.  Not chaste, but not lusty.  She responded just as I had hoped, mov­ing her body close to mine and hold­ing the kiss until I broke it.

A bit flus­tered by the kiss I have to focus.  I had promised this lovely woman a date, and I intended to fol­low through.  I smile as I tell her our plans.  A mid-date change of cloth­ing will be needed, so we pack two small bags, essen­tially large purses and head out.  Today is a day of favorites, and firsts.  I want to share with her the places I love to go, as well as the ones I haven’t yet expe­ri­enced.  We head out into the brisk cold, the sun high and mov­ing fast, cam­eras and huge purses in tow.  It’s not far, I tell her.  We’ll be at the museum in just a bit of a walk.

And so our date begins   more to follow.