Body stockings and bondage

I’ve recently discovered the joys of ebay, yes i’m slow on the uptake but i’m not one for bidding and rechecking constant items as it’s a tad boring.  I do however like the amount of lingerie and naughtiness you can purchase so i made a resolution to buy some new lingerie.

So, i excitedly opened my package last night with lace full bodysuit made of fishnet style material with an open crotch.  It’s not my usual style but for such a small investment i thought it wouldn’t hurt to try….

I was wrong

First the stocking took no less than fifteen paintstaking minutes to put on….with my nails and sensitive skin i was contorted in no less than about 23 awkward and unflattering positions, my feet up on the mattress,  trying to pull it up from the ankles to waist to then looking in the mirror and realising the ‘open crotch’ was more like an open vault of thighs.  Aaargh, i thought normal corsets were hard with the lace detail and hooks but this, this amounted to the most frustrating thirty minutes of my life.

By the time i had it on and adjusted i realised i was a lot bustier than the model and thus it looked vastly different on me than i anticipated, though the pattern was nice.  All black, with detailing criss crossing over alabaster skin.   And then the heat of wearing it all over my skin started to make me feel itchy and uncomfortable, how on earth do porn stars wear this on sets whilst having active, hard sex!!   I take my hat er… stockings off to them.

High hopes were dashed last night, i wanted to do some raunchy black and white shots with them on, i just can’t muster the courage to endure that outfit again.  I shall stick to my burlesque aspirations next time.

Freefall

i’m on the balcony, the precipice of lust
our hands merged in silent worship
not of the mundane kind
though you are at my altar

heady as incense
is the fluid you’re making run over expanse of skin
like amber encased within
worshipping minuatae of flesh

i marvel

at you

if the world ended this moment i think i would barely notice
the freefall

and as we love and lust together
as we explore
the secrets are there
between my eyes
between my legs

Down in the pool…and other excuses

Yes it’s been a while, no lame excuses from me.

Depression and anxiety it is said to be a black dog, and not a friendly one.  It sits by your side not waiting to be beckoned, but like a restless and unwanted visitor.  You try to paste a fake smile and pretend everything is fine, and sometimes you fool everyone around you.  Such is the journey of millions of people who suffer silently, myself included.

I’m happy in most ways, but the last few months i have struggled to find my confidence in writing and work particularly.  I couldn’t conjure beautiful images into words, i wasn’t able to shake the disarming doubts that nobody cared what i did or didn’t put down on this virutal paper.  I grew despondent at every copy of ‘fifty shades’ or some other erotica novel i saw and sighed to myself that it may never be my book that others laud over. 

Did i mention that writers are more neurotic and sensitive than most?? 

So, I decided to give up and just spend my time working and sharing my love with friends and my family.  Yet there was always the feeling that i was denying some part of my soul for practicality, for the mundane.  I rationalised that having a long sojourn over summer would be good, i could focus on finding a new job and applying for a new course.  Change is good isn’t it???  I dont want anyone to think i’ve been miserable, i’m not.  I think when you have been undervalued and not utilising your skills for so long you start to doubt if you are highly employable or valued, and for me it’s slowly eroded my confidence.

Then today i went to a kind of pagan, spiritualist festival and had a intuitive reading done.  I’m open to such things without being stupid to think that everything is set in stone or that every ‘psychic’ has true gifts.  I’m sitting there at a table opposite a small Asian lady, and she tells me that I need to keep writing, that my journal has been unused for too long and my poetry touches others.  This by the way was not done after asking me what my hobbies were, just her stating what she intuited.  I was more than a little surprised, but she kept emphasising the importance to me to not give up, no matter what. 

It’s funny what life throws at you when you are nearly prepared to walk away from something you love, so i am determined to keep writing, one little symbol at a time.  She probably had no idea that her advice in one way or another made all the difference to me.

Today the world didn’t end, but i’m hoping a new one just started.  Thanks to those who make the journey of writing a little easier for me.