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I’m open, not easy…

Some one called me inspirational…. I’m still speechless… *cough* yes, not likely I know… Usually I find my little ranty blog posts are inspired by others, something someone says will niggle away at my busy brain until it forms itself into something verging on coherent and requesting to be written.  This happened again this week.   I was immensely enjoying having a lovely telephone conversation with a fellow blogger, setting the world to rights etc, when something she said hit a large red and yellow bullseye in my brain. “I’m open, not easy.”

I ramble on about sex and it’s different aspects, I will express my opinion very clearly on sexual matters with practically anyone who wants to hear them via the internet, obviously I keep a tighter lid on what I think with people in my every day life, mostly people are not open, not able to admit to having a sexual nature so it’s best to keep quite, but on line, especially twitter, like finds like and openness is usually taken with the transparency and honesty with which it’s meant.  Sometimes people read my openness as something else and this does annoy me (although I understand why they might be misguided).

I’m open, not easy… I have desires, I like sex, I thrive on physical contact. Do I want to fuck you? No, I can safely say that unless I’ve actually told you to the contrary, I don’t. I’m happily married and regularly ‘serviced’ thanks all the same, I don’t need any help on that score. Just because I like to talk about sex doesn’t mean I’m swinging or having multi partners. So yeah, perhaps I muse about this fantasy or that but when you have something good going, why wreck it…

The blogesphere is full of bloggers who do tell you the intimate details of their sex lives and it makes very interesting reading, I know, I read a few of them and perhaps I’m living vicariously through their exploits. That’s my choice isn’t it? The same needs to apply to what I blog about and it occurs to me that I may have lost my way a little here. Everyone seems to be doing the “Last night I…” and I read these posts and wonder if that is what I should be doing to… only I know I can’t, it’s not me… That is what has spurned on all the jokes about not being a sex blogger.  You want that, you are in the wrong place, I need to do what I do which is mainly trying to make sense of this very strange and uptight little world we live in.

I’ve been a little bit cheesed off recently by a few commentors who appear to be implying that my life is less that it should be, their way is better, perhaps it is, but I am the navigator of my own life and I choose to live it the way I am. Whislt offers of a sexual nature might be appealing and flattering, as I’ve said from the beginning of this blog, it’s not an invitation I’m prepared to take.  You may get the impression I’m headstrong, the answer to that is only when I need to be and I will continue to live life as I see fit, being open, not easy.

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Cock….

I know… I’m not supposed to be here but as a Life blogger who thinks too much about sex my mind just won’t let me rest sometimes until I vent a little (still waiting for someone to call me out on the ‘not a sex blogger’ thing 😉 ) so I’m venting… It’s probably because today I’m without my usual joyful method of procrastination and the fact that I’ve been reading too much about it recently but I can help letting my mind wander over the subject of cock… Shame ain’t it.

A man’s penis is the appendage that often, his whole world will revolve around, physically and mentally. Often without them realising the extent of it’s influence.  I love cock… you may have noticed. Nothing is more sexy than a man in a sharp suit with a throbbing hard on, looking at me as if I’m the most beautiful woman on earth, his eyes begging me to undress him and be undressed. Makes me clench just thinking about it and that’s before any physical contact has occurred. I’m a Man-Fan, rough cold hands, eye twinkling filthiness, wonderful strong arms…  In fact, I have been called the only straight female ‘sex blogger’ because of my appreciation of maleness… (Not that given the opportunity of some guilt free, no ties pussy eating, I wouldn’t have a go because I probably would, I’m just not bi-curious enough to go seek it out, instigate it or except an invitation.) …so when I was asked to write a review about a book on blow jobs I giggled and agreed. It seems every sex blogger all over the world has been asked to review this book so most of you will know which it is, I’m still waiting to hear back from the author on a point in issue, so I’ll just point out this is not the review… but it has made me think more about manliness, cock, blow-jobs, why I enjoy giving them and I can sum up for you exactly what gets my blood pumping, why I enjoy lavishing attention on his cock so much in one word.

Power…

You want to put your cock where? In my mouth? With all my teeth? Of course I won’t use them on you darling unless you would like me too! But I could… couldn’t I… and you want my hands too, stroking your shaft and massaging your balls? How about I suck your balls gently too? All three? My pleasure….  And that is where the power comes from, I won’t, but I could and that is my choice, not yours…

Excuse me for getting a kick out of that but perhaps it’s a kink of mine, I love to suck cock, relishing loving attention and devotion on your member and I will enjoy it endlessly, the texture, the shape, the taste, Mmmm… yes I bloody will… but it’s on my terms, I get to be in Control and that’s the rule.

Is that so wrong of me?

Control is a major issue for me, I am a control freak , my personal boundaries are pretty wide but I don’t like to be pushed, nudged gently perhaps and I may push them myself; but again, that’s my choice. Too many times in my life I have not been in control of the direction I’ve been travelling, I’ve been trodden on and treated badly, not in control of my own destiny and unlike some people who seem content to let life push them about, I’m a feisty wench and I will fight back.  Being treated with respect, communication and having a choice are all such huge issues with me they affect my every waking moment.  In my relationships and my friendships I expect a bond of trust, a knowledge of boundaries and mutual understanding and I often look for this in other peoples relationships too, I like to see a balance.  So often that is exactly what I fail to see and that saddens me.

However, this control and trust are never more apparent then during a blow job… no matter how rough it might get, how deep he sinks his cock down my throat, he trusts me with his most precious, beautiful penis and I trust him not to fuck my face mindlessly like a gagging ragdoll fuck toy…

Because that is not something I can be.

7 Things…

*Yawns dramatically* I never really thought I’d get away with not doing it…

In years gone by, again as my guise as a Mummy Blogger, I have done 3 posts on “7 things about me” and it was a strain everytime. I was not looking forward to this bit much, then I realised that none of my readers here have seen those! So I *might have stolen 7 things mercilessly from the other posts, 7 really dull me things to tell you.

*unlikely, you decide if I would tell the vanilla world this stuff…

One!  Red wine makes me horny, especially Shiraz but it’s a fine line between horny and comatose…

Two!   I met Mr.Beam at a drop zone, I was packing a parachute at the time and if anyone tells you I was bought for a shower and a jump ticket, don’t believe them… it was 2 jump tickets 😉 He say’s I’ve never been cheap. (tw, ‘jump’ tickets were about the airplane not the bunkroom)

Three!  I got high in America… I visited the highest incorporated city in the US, Leadville to go Dog sledding, it was an amazing experience, as was the whole trip *dreams of snow, skis sliding through powder, the soft swish as you move, chilled air against your face* *cries*

Four!  Every winter I hunt endlessly for inexpensive knee high leather boots and every year I fail to find any that will zip over my calves or accommodate my strangely shaped feet.

Five! When it comes to my feet, don’t go there, no really, I’m not kidding. Touching my feet accidentally may result in a bloody nose for you, touch them on purpose and a sensitive part of you is going to hurt for a very long time….

Six! Really struggling to find anything to write here now so I have asked my dear pal Bluelagoon, she tells me I am one of the Stillest people she has ever known. I read that as silliest which of course confused me as I’m sure she knows far sillier people than me! Though I will admit to being bloody daft at times! But no, apparently I can be still and observe people “it goes beyond people watching.” Funny the things people think about you isn’t it… I thought everyone observed how people are, how they stand and talk, move and interact… Doesn’t everyone imagine the lives of those around them, who are they with, are they lovers, what they might be like in bed…   Or just wonder at the colour of their lounge, how much washing up is piled in the kitchen, if they put the lid on the toothpaste or replace the loo roll, are they messy, creative, humourous or if they are anally tidy… No? Just me then…

Seven! I don’t own a trug….

Happy? Usually….

I love me, I love me, I love ME! I LOVE ME!!!

Twee isn’t it….

I have a philosophy, (one of many) it’s not a new idea, there are so few genuinely new ideas any more. My philosophy is that you can not truly love another person until you love yourself, or at least appreciate who you are, like what you can and put up with the rest as the bits that make you an interesting person to be around.

That doesn’t mean to say you have to be madly, head swellingly full of self adoration, just a little “I’m okay, I am.” will do the job.  Happiness and the ability to happy with someone else starts within you. It takes time, there is no instant fix, you can’t buy it (perhaps temporarily *looks at my Audi R8 brochure*) and what works for me probably won’t work for you. It’s not really about what you do for a living or how you live that life either, more about being content with the way you see the world, the love you share, the respect you hold for others. Liking all the aspects of your personality, recognising your faults and the impact they might have on other people. Being okay with who you are.  Which of course necessitates actually know who you are and finding yourself.  It reminds me a little of that song “Never been to me.” It’s very easy to loose sight of who you are and as I’m no self help guru so I can’t tell you how to find it because only you can do that.

I know this. I have discussed this endlessly with myself and still I lose the way sometimes and to be honest, that is so easily done. Life chucks knives at us, sometimes a grand piano has been hurled in my direction and you duck and dive the best you can, holding your breath and coming up for air before you drown.  As long as I can hold on to my “I’m okay, I am.”  I can make my world work the way I want it to.

How did I learn to like me? Introspection and self analysis mostly. I write stuff down (oh! have you noticed!) I have written a lot of stuff down over the years that I do not share, I just get it out of my headspace so I can think more clearly, then I put it away for a while, a day sometimes, a week, sometimes months. Then I reread it when I have moved away from the issue and can think my way through it clearer. It’s a bit like a pros and cons list for life. Quite often, when I have thought through an issue I have and feel comfortable to move on from it I have a little burning ceremony… Yes, you read that right, I burn my words as I no longer need them, I set them free… I am not about to do this to my laptop *strokes laptop* “It’s okay darling you know I love you!”

So maybe shouting “I love me” is a little o.t.t. just a quiet smile and a “I quite like me.” is fine.

Naturally, I’m not talking physically here, that is a whole other kettle of fish. There is a reason why there are only two mirrors in this house both above chest height and I loath trying stuff on in the shops.  There is nothing Actually wrong with my body or my face, 2 arms, 2 legs, 2 much tummy, great tits and a cheeky arse. I’ve mischievous eyes and a kissable mouth apparently… It’s just when I see me in the mirror I don’t recognise that person… On the day before my 30th Birthday I stood in front of the mirror and asked the woman I saw “Who are you?” I spent a few years after that trying to find out and then my world changed anyway with the arrival of the small people as did my body… She often catches me off guard that woman, I see group photo’s with smiley faces that I recognise, the other people all look like they should and then there is me and I look… wrong somehow.  It’s more then just wrinkles and plumpness, it’s as if I expect to see a whole different face.

Still, we all have our issues 😉

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

then follow the arrows to the next post

Indecision…

So here we are, September *Does back flip* I’m having an odd poignant moment with the things occuring in my life that I have little control over or wonder if I’m on the right track with. One of these being this tiny little insignificant corner of the internet called EroticMoonbeam…

I started this little project in May, May 6th to be exact so I’m approaching just 4 months of wittering on endlessly about sex and stuff, I haven’t written any erotica all summer and I have missed it but with everything going on here there has been no silence to muse. I have been pondering the future of this blog though.

People are reading it… fuck knows why… but they are, I guess sex sells. Not that you get much actual sex to be honest, usually just me and my banal outpourings of a slightly crude nature…  I’m not really much of a sex blogger… I hate pictures of me so you are never going to get much of that and frankly I don’t care if this venusian does look like Venus in your eyes, it’s my blog and I don’t want to look at it. So, wanton pictures which are so wonderful for the old stats are a no no…  I’m (sadly) not promiscuous, so tales of adventure and illicit meetings with handsome tall men in secluded parts of the local forest, rampantly fucking on picnic blankets are far and few between…  sucks eh! and I’m reasonably confident in my sexual nature, with a few experiments thrown in so as not to freak Mr. Beam out too much, there is not much here in a voyage of discovery….

So, why continue blogging? Just to rant? Just to muse?

I have considered going self hosting and if I do that what should I make my space be? Would it not be sensible to just stick to the erotic writing like so many brilliant writers and leave the sex blogging to the younger “New discoveries” types or the “Sexually explicit live vicariously through their writing.” types?

I’m honestly struggling to see where I fit in to this melee.  “Reasonably happily married writer with a hunk of a husband who she should be very grateful for, interested in pushing her sexual boundaries but straight, with no pain involved and no, he doesn’t want to go swinging.” I mean… I’m yawning…

So what is the point?

After somebody recently almost implied that older erotic writers must be sex starved bored housewives getting off on their imagination I have found a reluctance in me to continue… It irks me that this is how people might see me. I have thought of changing the name of the blog to “Yes, I might be a MILF and I’d probably love it if you did but I’m getting my fairly high sexual urges satisfied at home – just.” But it wouldn’t fit across the screen.  So I have considered changing the voice here. Posting fiction only, because reality is a tad boring, sex is just messy and housewives don’t want sex… Right?

I don’t know…

*Continues to ponder*

I think I might miss taking the piss out of myself…

Female Fuckbuddy?

You know those time where you think you are missing out and you really don’t want to but you feel you have just missed the boat and even if you caught it, the ride might not be to your liking anyway? That…

I expect you are all groaning and mumbling “What the fuck…” as usual.

Basically it’s this. I’m really open minded, as long as it doesn’t involve Children, Animals and it’s consensual you can get up to what you like and within the vast constraints in my personal life, so can I.

Only I can’t…

I’m not – no matter how much I think I would like to be – Sexually attracted to other women, in any way and I find this a little disappointing to say the least. Over the years I must have met and enjoyed the company of hundreds of people and silently in my head somewhere, quite often at subconscious level I have that annoyingly human propensity to file them in little boxes, like “not hot” “agreeable” “fairly hot”  “Fuck, I’d do you” and that rare beast “Take me now!!!”  I’ve never met a woman who gets further then an appreciative reflective “fairly hot”.

I’ve even discussed this with a friend of mine who just happens to be a lesbian, she said “You are just going to have to face the fact, as sad as it is, that you are straight and get over it!” She said this with a wry smile on her face too. She was amused by the idiocy of a straight woman, who actually would quite like to experience another woman but can’t find one she even remotely fancies because basically they are women and she doesn’t fancy them. I know, it’s daft.

Lets face it a female fuck-buddy would be awesome. Would there be anything more wonderful then sex with another woman? I mean all that soft skin, a delectable pussy to explore, nipple and breasts to squeeze. Other great win points are neither of us would get pregnant, there would be no arguments about the toilet seat being left up and if I had a problem she could help me discuss it rather than offering a solution without really listening! But, No matter how I think of it I can’t see it becoming a possibility.

Honestly, I’m getting wet just writing the last paragraph. I wonder if this perhaps means that somewhere, out in the world somewhere is a woman who could make me feel that spark of desire, to take the leap forward and revel in the delights of her glorious body and allow her to enjoy mine. It would take that spark too, the “Fuck, I’d do you” category because without it I don’t do anyone, a lesson I learnt in my ever so slightly promiscuous 20’s after a few ‘mistakes’, it doesn’t matter how horny you are you have to live with your choices of partner, so I’d always tried to pick men I could remember with a clench and a smile.

A gentleman friend said to me this week on this very subject “You know, there is nothing wrong with you, there is nothing wrong with being straight.” and I do know that, although the internet and erotica seems to be full of Bi-Curious women trying to find some one to slake the curiosity, I’m aware that I’m actually very confident in my sexuality, I guess that is why I feel that I might have missed the boat, because I don’t feel the need to actively explore this sexual element.  I just continue on my journey in “Cockdom” enjoying the delights of the male body and mind, any wondering if there might be a woman out there who could ignite my lust is so deep in my mind that unless someone else says something it never occurs to me. Part of me hopes it’s not impossible though, part of me how ever dormant, still looks at women to see if they make the “Fuck, I’d do you” category,  she would have to be very special, one could argue that such a woman might not exist and in all probability if she did, she wouldn’t fancy me anyway…

Such is life.

 

Erotic Photography and I

I have a love for black and white erotic photo’s, sometimes just suggestive ones but on occasion, mood depending, nothing hits the spot like a graphic image.  As a tumblr addict I enjoy hours of surfing through blogs finding the images that appeal to me and as the months go on I am getting fussier and fussier about what I choose to reblog; I appreciate that my taste is my own and I’m no expert, just sometimes the smallest detail can put me off a picture even if it appeals to me generally.

I do love a picture to tell a story so my mind can reel a little fleshing out the details, I started a tumblr to reblog pictures which explicitly suggested further storytelling merits to me, it’s like a place to file images for future reference.

But it isn’t where it started. A lovely friend of mine introduced me to Tumblr earlier this year and I have never looked back. I created my own personal smut fest now called The Darker Side of a Lady.

I’d always been very disappointed in porn previously, with a very few exceptions it really isn’t produced for women, or at least not for me. I find most of it trashy, the storylines are terrible and the Stupid Noises some of those people make EEeeewwwww!!

Since I discovered tumblr though, I know I can watch porn and get ‘off” on it. “How?” you ask – easy, I turn the contrast to black and white and the sound down…  this works for me 😉

I love mixing black and white photos in with beautiful vivid colour shots, often tumblr is best viewed in archive mode, it gives me a sense of balance to trace colours across a mostly black and white screen.

and then sometime in my quieter moments certain pictures really hit the spot.

Or make me laugh…

or just take my breath away!

Everyone should have a Tumblr or 5!

Tell me, Where is yours?

Orgasm Envy!

I’m not a jealous person. Sometimes I wish I were because as a writer I often feel it would be handy to feel such a strong emotion, from a descriptive point of view. No, I’m pretty laid back, I get twinges of envy like everyone does, when someone says “I’m going to lock myself in the garden room at the bottom of our six acre landscaped garden and quietly write, I have an Italian espresso machine in there…” I mean – who wouldn’t! But jealousy no, not really. I think to myself, I expect they earned it or I convince myself quiet thoroughly usually that what I have in my cramped corner of Blighty is actually all I need to be happy.

Until someone starts knocking on about their orgasms… You know the ones.

“We fucked for 3 hours and I had 8 orgasms!!” Eight… twinges of envy start arising and the conversation in my head starts getting louder…

“She had eight orgasms! He must be good, what was he doing to her? She must cum easily lucky cow, I bet it was awesome, perhaps they are not very big ones, perhaps they just chip away at her horniness, I wonder if she feels sated at all? Hmmmmm.”  and so my surprised expression turns to one of doubt and then a frown as I convince myself not to be jealous.  I guess it’s a survival thing.

The thing with orgasms is we just can’t experience each others to know if we are missing something or not! I mean Mrs.Eightinthreehours might not have as much pleasure as I do with my intensely built up, mentally and physically incapacitating, overwhelmingly, body wrackingly, often multiple, huge ones… The most I’ve ever experienced in 3 hours is two of those and I thought I might sleep for a week! I don’t sound very convinced do I? So I suppose I have to follow the route of ‘you are better off not knowing’ and just enjoy them as often as I can.

And then again I get days like yesterday and today when my brain tells me I’m hot to trot and even after four screamers the edge of my horniness is still cutting like a carving knife, my body responds to every touch but because it’s still quaking from the last orgasm all of 3 minutes ago I can’t go there…  Then I must admit I’m jealous of Mrs.EightinThreehours because I’m feral and insatiable and and and it’s just not bloody fair!!

 

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

then follow the arrows to the next post

Endings Sprial From New Beginnings

The last 6 months have been rather monumental for me, after a particularly hard end to last year where I was struggling to find my voice blogging, whilst trying to balance home life with a novel gushing out of my head, January’s discovery of the ‘Dark Side’ of twitter swept me up in a whirl pool and I haven’t looked back!

I only wanted somewhere to vent, honestly! I remember swearing at twitter one pressure filled day and being chastised by several (male) followers for my base language, it shocked me a bit! This was me, on my twitter, saying what I wanted to say! But they didn’t see me like that, the gentle,calm mother of two who posts pictures of her cottage garden and two delightful pretty children (they are both! says mother) should not be swearing and ranting at twitter. #fact  A friend suggested I opened a second account and so I did.

I followed a few people who made me laugh and some tweeps I wouldn’t dare follow from the mummy side, jumped in feet first and kind of just flew…  It opened up a world of filth and mirth that I just fell into naturally, my sense of humour has never been what you might call ‘clean’.

It’s been a journey of discovery, one that if I had not taken it there would be no EM.  Locked accounts apparently mean mischief and I will hold my hands up to creating some of my own in the time I had it and I would still be struggling to find my voice, I also would have had a lot less laughter and release in my life.

Why am I telling you this? Because today I deleted that locked account, 3 active Twitter accounts were just too much to deal with and my flight deck that is Tweetdeck just couldn’t keep up.  The friends I made on my locked account are all following EM on Twitter, yes my timeline *might become muckier and I *might swear a little more often. I appologise politely in advance in the way that you do when you don’t really mean it because essentially that is me and I *might need to do it…  The Mummy account will be seeing much more of that too to be honest and they will just have to get on with it, I Am Me in all my shades of grey.

*might… might! I would be upset if it didn’t!!

One question I have still remains – So Nine, do I still hold back?

So there you are, the end of an era and yes, I did shed a few tears. I’m going to miss the Old Bird. R.I.P.

I’d love to hear about your mucky twitter journey 😉

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

then follow the arrows to the next post

On My Best Behaviour……

I spend such a lot of time being smutty, thinking naughty thoughts, writing (eloquently I hope) about sex that it’s getting to a point where I’m finding interacting with people in a ‘normal’ clean decent fashion is becoming an issue.

Case in point – yesterday. Walking past Ann Summers in the city I noticed they have their sale on. I stated my interest, my sister (we are on the same page about most things) nodded with interest, her friend exclaimed “My God you are actually considering that!” I looked at her in surprise “Of course I am, I do love a bargain! I’ve got Ann Summers undies on today!” Her face was a picture. My sister did point out her friend was “Religious” and not always comfortable with subjects I find natural to talk about.

During the rest of the day I tried really hard to be on my best behaviour, it was the least I could do for my sister, I talked about my holiday, my kids, I would have attempted to join in the conversation about trash TV except I never watch it and so (as usual) have no idea who some B’list presenter was & I really couldn’t give a monkeys arse who got the sack on some convoluted excuse for entertainment…

I even held back when my tweet regarding having a Costa in Bath wouldn’t go through due to the shit signal in the dear old city and she commented under her breath that I should “Get a life” (Isn’t it funny how these people who claim to have a life always know who every celebrity is what they are doing with their career and life and watch what must amount to hours and hours of telly – living their ‘life’ vicariously? I prefer my social network of twitter pals #justsaying)

Don’t think I didn’t get my own back…. I bit my tongue very successfully but I wasn’t going to miss out on the Ann Summers sale! I had a grin like a slice of watermelon when the lady in question ventured to the back of the shop to try on undies and I proceeded to have a loud conversation with my sister about the merits of the different vibrators *sniggers* I even regaled them with the mint lube story.

Thinking forward, I have a fair few social engagements coming up where I’m going to have to be ‘super vanilla’ a wedding and a girls night and I do wonder why my social life when it occurs is so boringly main stream…

I honestly don’t think it’s me that’s the issue here, I’m just super cool and love talking smut 😉

Everyone else is uptight *sniggers*

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

then follow the arrows to the next post