I peered through the crack in the door, almost certain of what I’d see and I was not wrong or disappointed. He held in his hands a pair of my knickers, lacy, flimsy and definitely no match for his ever increasing erection.
‘Interesting choice. What made you choose them to wear?’
‘What? I … er …. oh, haha, very funny, no I just found these in my drawer and was putting them back for you.’
‘Or you were planning to wear them, watch porn and have a wank. But now you are going to wear them, not watch porn and be wanked.’
I did know the rules or should I say his rules and I thought they were fucking stupid. Not least of all because they weren’t my rules, but they were still imposing on my life and spoiling my fun. I wouldn’t mind if she was saying no, because she didn’t want it, but saying no when she did want it, just made no sense to me.
Rules aside, she began to remove her clothes, leaving nothing on but her white shirt and her tights, sheer with a hint of blue, I wanted nothing more than to rip them from her body, before pushing her thighs apart and delving tongue first into her delicious, wet cunt.
I think my desire for her is a form of madness, it twists in my gut, makes my mind foggy and pushes out any sense of propriety. Which always worked very well for us, friendship and passion combining, we would spend hours talking, fucking and exploring our mutual interest in photography.
Winter weather is well and truly taking hold here. I am keeping cosy though in my Harry Potter jumper and Slytherin socks. Ready to coil round Bakji in snake-like fashion to steal any and all warmth I can from him.
This week’s Friday Flash was inspired by the image provided for this week’s prompt …
‘Listen to me.’
She wouldn’t listen to him. Especially when he meant ‘obey’ when he said listen. She was not a child or a doormat and he did not know what she wanted.
She despised him and his air of arrogance, his assumed authority over every woman that caught his eye, his piercing gaze and tone of voice that told her he thought she was just like the rest of the women who fawned all over him.
… I wanted to call this post ‘On Writing‘. I shan’t dwell on that though. However, if you haven’t read that particular title of Stephen King’s I highly recommend it.
Back to the post at hand and what perfect inspiration this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt is for me. The blog has been quiet the last week or so. New working hours have been well and truly kicking my ass, there has been a lot of daytime snoozing to make sure my physical and mental health don’t slip. I have had to accept that for the moment the blog isn’t the most important thing in life right now. That doesn’t mean regular service won’t resume though, it will and the reason is that I love writing and when I saw the Wicked Wednesday prompt I knew it was the perfect blog post to kick start my writing again.
For me, writing has been an outlet of emotions since my teens. My first love when it came to producing writing was poetry. I can’t recall my exact age but I was around twelve I think when I read ‘Love’s Philosophy’ by Percy Bysshe Shelley. That single poem felt to me like the purest and most wonderful thing ever written. It sent me on a journey to discover a poem I loved more than that one. To this day I have never found one, that poem remains my all-time favourite. It moves something inside me everytime I read it and I never tire of it.
This past weekend we had two extra sets of hands to aid with our sexy fun and no matter how far along the non-monogamy journey I go, these kinds of experiences are always something I find myself reflecting on in much greater detail than I do our one-on-one experiences.
After our wonderful friends had left after their weekend with us, myself and Bakji recorded an episode of ProudToBeKinky all about what we got up to with them. Later on in the evening, someone asked Bakji on our Discord chat (for podcast listeners to chat about the show and ask questions) what the difference was for him between non-monogamy and Polyamory. I explore the answer to that question in ‘Beneath the Umbrella of Non-Monogamy’.
One of the things I always circle back round to when reflecting on non-mono experiences and when answering questions about it is friendship. When people who aren’t in the know about non-monogamous lifestyles imagine what our number one motivation is for being non-monogamous I suspect sex, and lots of it is the main reason they suspect for our deviation from monogamy.
A little while back I read a blog post that is no longer available about polyamory and swinging myths, it was a great post and it inspired me to talk about another type of alternative relationship model, non-monogamy. I wrote the article below for that blog, but later on in the week I would like to share another post about a more specific non-monogamous experience and I think this post is a perfect preface to that one, so I am taking the opportunity to share it with you now.
For me, non-monogamy is both an umbrella term and a more specific way to describe my own relationship without using a descriptor that could be a little misleading. Myself and Bakji both identify as non-monogamous, both as individuals and within the dynamic we have together.
As many of you will know I enjoy getting involved in Sinful Sunday, while it is a great place to share images and find inspiration for new ways to create my own images, every now and then it inspires a blog post too. This time it is the wonderful image from Love is a Paraphilia. I was a bit stumped for a Masturbation Monday post this week, life has got a lot going on and I think a little bit of writer’s block set in towards the end of last week. But I couldn’t stop musing on the idea of discarded Polaroids being found in an old and derelict building, so I let my mind run with it and this is what came of that inspiration.
The old manor house had always been in a state of disrepair, new owners that purchased it but never saw fit to renovate let it move into derelict territory. As it lay abandoned it was impossible not to imagine what it could once have been, what memories must lie within its walls, as I stood in front of it I recalled the experiences I had there myself before it had fallen to be the ruin it now was.
We were young, adventurous and definitely thrill seekers, we engaged in what many people would consider ‘bedroom activities’ in a myriad of places, and rarely were any of them even close to a bedroom. Even as the seasons changed, and bright summer days gave way to autumn leaves and winter frosts we could still be found cavorting outside in various states of undress exploring the most intimates parts of one another.
I loved October and all the wonderful dark and disturbing tales it brought forth from both other people and myself. I really enjoy delving into fantasies both sexual and non-sexual that lurk within the darker and sometimes slightly macabre parts of my mind. When I saw the November prompt for Sinful Sunday I knew I want to go along those lines for my image and I’m really into the vibe of this photo.
Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too.
They live inside us, and sometimes they win.
– Stephen King
This image was inspired by this weekends Sinful Sunday prompt of Transmogrify. Prompt weekends always include some amazing photography so please do follow the lips below to see who else is getting involved.
She had admired him from afar for a long time. When she finally had the chance to engage him in conversation her admiration grew and so did her longing to be with him. She was disappointed that he seemed a little reticent to join her for dinner, and even more so when after eventually dining with her he didn’t seem as captivated by her as she was by him. She knew what had to be done though, it had been a long time since she yearned for a man’s attention in this way and she wasn’t about to let a little disinterest stop her from getting what she wanted.
There was much to prepare. She had very little time until the moon was at its most powerful, but between now and then she must collect a little of his essence to bring them together, before collecting her own treasure from its place of storage.