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The Power of Sex…

I’ve been asked;

Is it the thought of sex or sex itself that is more powerful for you?

It’s an intriguing question, one which I have spent a fair amount of time considering.

The thoughts of sex? 

I do think about sex a lot, sex and entanglement, of emotion, of desire.  The flirtatious firsts, kissing, touching, words spoken, body language, the unwritten signs, sexual chemistry.  The inner workings, thought patterns, lack of thought patterns. Deeper still; the movement, texture, smell, sound. At some point during everything I write I pause and think, what is she thinking, did he like that, is this working…

What turns me on, what turns me off…

Scenarios of sex play through my mind, stories need to brew until they over boiling from my head. I actually find it hard to write to a prompt or on a specific day, for personal reasons writing erotica on a Friday or at the weekend is much harder for me.  Which is why I try extra hard to join in with the prompted time related writing – it’s the masochistic streak in me.

Words fill my mind, I find a lot of writers don’t read, to a degree I’m guilty of that too, I have my favourite blogs that I try (and usually fail) to keep up with, they are not all erotic blogs, often human interest – people intrigue me, will she, won’t she, has he? These thoughts are ultimately about sex (or money.)

I have a deep passion for carefully constructed seductive words. If I find an erotic writer who articulately expresses their writing in a way that makes my mind reel and body react I will read everything they write. Words go through my head and my body follows. The way to my passion is through words.  I appreciate their danger like so few others.

Thoughts of sex are extremely powerful. In my head sex is exciting and positive, enthralling and beguiling. Nothing ever turns me off because I won’t let it happen, it’s all rose tinted and perfect even when it’s messy and squelchy, dirty and nasty – it all flows perfectly.

Sex itself?

Is fabulous, it contains everything my kookie mind dreams up because I do like putting my thoughts into actions, my other half is open to suggestions but to be honest he is just as good at coming up with ideas and feeling how he goes as I am.

Putting him aside for a moment and considering the question from the angle my friend wanted to know about.

Sex actually can be hard to get right, so many things can let you down.  New partners although exciting a prospect do not flow like holywood movie stars, not everything will click, whilst this can be fun to fathom out it can also be difficult if you don’t know how to communicate your need, how do you say ‘actually that isn’t working’ in the full throng of fellatio ;-0

Someone says the wrong thing, misinterprets your mood, bodily functions interrupt the atmosphere. There might be too much light, not enough light, the music isn’t getting you off, you drank too much, you didn’t drink enough!


As I have said before, I’m a Venusian and things on Venus are much more refined then on Mars, or Earth for that matter, can a woman who dreams of perfect ever expect that to happen in real life with all it’s uncomfortable limb entangled, misunderstanding, farting, coughing, finding a stray pubic hair in your mouth mess that is REALITY??

Well, it has happened so why should it not happen again *smirks*

Now whilst you might think this answers his question and the thought is more alluring then the act I’d like to add that  my friend also asked me:

Is the thought of having an affair…. the daydreams… fantasies….. better than the real thing…. in the long run.

and to be honest with you my dear I have no idea… Is having an affair a good idea at all?  Would it not be better off being in the open? A consensual arrangement between partners of an acknowledged physical need for variety? In my dreams…

Some would say no. Because of the emotional attachment that seems to get involved, the longing, the desire, the haunting feeling that comes of not being able to have the one person you want. The futility of knowing what you have however good it was before may never be right again, not to mention living with the guilt, the betrayal.

Some would say yes. The thrill of the chase, the adrenaline, the discovery of a new person, the potential of fulfillment….

Sexual utopia for me would perhaps be a place where experimentation with other people is permissive IF the parties concerned were able to separate their feelings from the act, in my experience this is a rare occurrence.

I can’t help thinking that the more I think about sex and having sex, the thought of lovers and being the object of someones desire , of being wanted, held and loved for the sake of the moment the more questions I find I have…

To my friend who asked the question I’d say that any conclusions I may ever reach on the subject – and finding a conclusion is not looking good – would only ever apply to me in that moment. I can’t answer this for you.

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T.M.I. Tuesday – What’s In A Name?

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet”

–William Shakespeare, “Romeo and Juliet.”

Meaning: What matters is what something is, not what it is called.


1. You have started your own sex themed business. What is the name of your business? What is your specialty service or product?

I’d love to provide romantic holidays, evenings in beautiful hotel rooms, dinner on the balcony, exotic sex locations, fulfilling fantasies – whatever they are. I’d call it Fantasy Sexploration

BONUS: In one or two sentences, what is your business’s slogan or motto?

Your Fantasies Fulfilled

2. You have to write a 10-word message to the man/woman of your dreams, what would you say?

Take me in your arms and kiss me, shift gravity.

3. What’s the word or string of words your partner can say to you that sends you over the edge the quickest?

He tells me I’m beautiful, that he needs me, that he loves his Classy Lady with the filthy little slut inside.

4. What is the nickname of your partner’s pussy or dick? Did you name it or was it already called that.

He has such a perfect penis but it doesn’t really have a nick name as such,  not one I can say with my mouth full anyway 😉

5. What would you call yourself if you could choose your own name?

My name is boring, dull as dishwater, I’ve always wanted to change it but it was chosen for me by my parents who I love, so I keep it. If that wasn’t an issue I’m not sure where I would start!

My grandmothers name was Violet, I’ve always loved it, so perhaps Violet.

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Life Blipped…. Musing on fantasy.

This week has been a toughy, you haven’t noticed have you… Nah, I know, I’m full of blarney.

It went down hill rapidly on Tuesday night when the OH decided he’d quite like to read ‘Scarlet’ the longer story I’m writing at the moment, it’s a lot more romantic than some of my stuff. After a while of reading though he went very quiet.  Basically instead of reading Scarlet he’d chosen to start at the beginning of the blog posts here.

Now, I’m not daft, I’m not hiding my musing from him, I’ve told him exactly what I’ve written, we have discussed the “other man” MMF, swinging thing almost endlessly to the point of boredom…  and yet still, inside him somewhere is a seed of doubt. I do understand that too. I’m very good at understanding! I’m also very good at make up sex, even if I did stay up to midnight with it all whirling in my head getting totally stressed after he went to bed.  I just woke him up for a pretty fast and furious hard fuck…. He didn’t complain much 😉

Going over it all again was not good for me though, I crashed. BIG TIME!

Wednesday was messy.  Fortunately I’d written my ‘Vanilla’ post on Tuesday and I had my head back together by Friday…  *sigh*

He seems to think he has to make all my fantasies come true. (Touching darling, honestly, but unnecessary.) I’ve tried several times to make him see that he doesn’t have to hire a sports car for the day and fuck me on the bonnet – it’s fantasy! He doesn’t need to worry about my daydreams of candlelit soirees with two dark handsome strangers – it’s fantasy! He’d never manage to persuade Colin Firth to take me skinny dipping – fantasy, Fantasy, FANTASY!!!!

*Bites Lip*

Without fantasy life would be quite dull.  I know some of them are obtainable with a little work and a bit of money, it is possible to hire an R8 for the day if you take a second mortgage out on your house.  If I asked Twitter for a couple of volunteers for a spit roast I’m sure hands would be raised. but like all life time dreams once the are achieved do they not just become fond memories?  Is reality not harsh in comparison? I mean, how likely is it that the reality will be half as good as what happens in my brain.  Lets face it, sex on a R8 is probably uncomfortable, talk dark handsome strangers will probably turn into my worst porn nightmare and Colin will fart in the bath….

Such is life….

To start at the beginning of my journey on this blog, click here

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I’ve been reading Molly’s Pussy Pride entries, which are like their owners I suspect, all different sizes and appearances.  I thought I’d jump on the band wagon, even though I have written about my ‘train wreck pussy’ before.  My previous post was might have been a little bit on the sarcastic side, I do suffer from that, even if my point at the end was valid. I may not of made it clear of my true appreciation of this particular piece of my anatomy.

Since May 13th I have been happily refering to my pussy as ‘my own personal train wreck’  it has ceased to worry me that it might be bigger and messier than some because of the pleasure it gives me.

The first time I can remember having an orgasm I must have been about 6, I was in my bed idly fiddling as kids do and pow! What a revelation! Since then I have happily wanked my way though my life. I’d like to point out that I have no problems with wanking – I love it, nay, I’m a bit of an addict,  it seems my last post was misinterpreted by some – my fault intirely, I’m the writer… I feel no shame in wanking at all.

My pussy has fairly large lips.  They are very sensitive and feel incredible when teased, nibbled or licked.  I can take that treatment for hours, unless I’m on a feral day. The outer lip wall protrudes slightly too, which also loves being stroked, even pinched sometimes.  Inside, my g-spot is fairly obvious if you know what you are feeling for, the skin is rougher to the touch and flatter, it has a bounce to it as you press it, feels a bit like a mini trampoline 😉  My clit is fairly well hooded but once teased out it doesn’t hold back in helping me achieve earth shattering orgasms.

My pussy changed so much after having my son, obviously cutting and forceps are never going to leave your anatomy as it was (I can almost see all the chaps cringing out there and all the ladies nodding in empathy) but I never realised how much better sex would feel once I healed, she’s so much more sensitive all round and the other half can push in so much deeper *drifts off* mmmmmm.

She is immensely well treated.  It’s the only area of my body that I will regularly go to a beauty salon for. I might get my nails done once a year and I’m toying with the idea of leg waxing… but the Brazilian is a fixture, every 6 weeks  hot wax, ouchie time – worth every penny, turning the 70’s porn star look into a silky soft haven of pussy purrrrfection.

She also has her own personal collection of toys, my beloved glass vibe, the rampant rabbit with it’s vibrating balls which is fucking wonderful but only really good for knocking the edge off my horniness (I think I might have broken that actually *sniggers*) and my bullet.  I also have a selection of other toys but perhaps that should be saved for a different post….
Pussy Pride

To start at the beginning of my journey on this blog, click here

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Orchids are not the only flowers…

Okay listen up.. I’m old, I have a fragile ego and I worry about things needlessly. Only one of these I believe to be true. However, sometimes I can’t help feeling all three at once for the most bizarre reasons.  Recently I have been getting a little jumpy with regard to a certain part of my anatomy, I shall tell you why.

A male friend of mine with whom I do on occasion share in very flirty banter happened to comment that he bet I had a very neat pussy. Apparently he likes a neat pussy, when I questioned what he meant he said “Some of them look like a train wreck!” bearing in mind please that he has NO IDEA what my pussy looks like I can’t help thinking he was on dodgy ground and just expressing an opinion, his opinion without even thinking about the implications of what my pussy might actually look like…

Later that week I happened to be surfing Tumblr as is my won’t and I came across a post reblogged from a site call “perfectpussies.” Out of some weird masochistic desire to horrify myself even further I had to go and have a look. Page after page of tiny mounded, light-skinned, pink and tidy, thin-lipped pussies with no pubic hair what so ever…

Now I’m feeling old and a little fragile and worried – oh boy worried.

And so, like so many women before me I fetch a mirror and have a squat. I’ve done it before but to be honest the last time was just after I’d given birth, I had stitches was bruised as fuck and really very swollen. The midwife warned me not to do it and to be honest I wish I had listened to her, it made me cry….

So I’m in the bathroom with the door firmly shut squatting over a mirror and what I see doesn’t look too bad to me but it’s not small and pale with tiny lips, au contraire,  I’m olive-skinned over most of me and much darker ‘down there’ with rather large lips. (No I’m not going to post a picture, don’t even think it 😉 )

Paranoia creeps in, I ask my partner “Does my pussy look like a train wreck?” He gasped, seriously he did! “No!”  He says “I love your pussy, so good to eat…” he drifts off and then starts detailing how he enjoys nibbling and sucking me, tracing his fingers lightly or being a little rougher depending on my reactions, honestly I could have listened for hours getting hornier all the time, in this respect he’s right, there is plenty to play with and oh fuck does it ever feel good!

So I feel a little less paranoid but it occurs to me after all this time that showing my vagina to a new man is actually a very scary prospect! It wouldn’t stop me for a second, don’t get me wrong but one man’s lovely pussy is another mans train wreck, surely…

So now I don’t feel so old, mainly because frankly I’m not… in my head at least. I don’t feel as fragile but I do feel a little worried still. I go back to tumblr to do some “research” and this is the conclusion I have come to…

Yes, some pussies look like a ‘train wreck’ but it doesn’t seem to matter to the amount of reblogs they get.  My lips are by no means of the largest variety so I should quit worrying.  Loads of women have darker skin around their vaginas and at the top of their thighs, it’s natural so don’t worry about it and best of all, the pictures and gifs where the men appear to be having the MOST fun are the ones with the larger slitted ladies with a rounder mound of venus… At this point I stopped worrying because you know, there are men and women who prefer neat pussies and there are men and women who prefer to get a really good mouthful and I should know better then worry…

Different strokes for different folks…. but please, don’t stop at stroking xx

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To start at the begining of my journey on this blog, click here.