Happy New Year lovely bloggers and interested readers! This is Part 1. of my New Year Review covering some bloggers and blogs, ArtTwist and considerations of my ongoing kink, creative and sexual explorations. It includes […]
The nervous anticipation of being led, blindfolded, by a stranger, across the cavernous warehouse space. The moment when the music enlivened my hips, replacing my timidity with playfulness, trust and mutual interaction. Being bent over the leather stool, ropes encircling my arms.
The man, his music, the dope and the panel van became familiar territory in the succeeding months we spent in each others company. We made no pretence of love, but our non-monogamous relationship was, in the first instance, an anodyne to my sadness and eroded confidence.
Its not erotica, but I believe it is erotic, simply because I think I’ve captured something of the essence of the man (and my joy in being around him). I wanted to share it with you (with, of course, his permission). I haven’t been so inspired to draw in a long time, and although my feelings for him were clearly a catalyst, they have cleared a pathway back to my earlier love of drawing. So expect more, maybe on the blog, maybe on Instagram, Tumblr or Twitter.
“Dance, when you’re broken open. Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off…
But in the end, it’s only a passing thing … this shadow. Even darkness must pass.”
I have maybe half a dozen books of (mostly) short stories (including Delta of Venus by Anais Nin) at least half of which involve tentacles or beasts of some sort. While i am no “beauty” I do find myself frequently attracted to the “beast”. I’m enough of a romantic, and I’ve been immersed sufficiently in myth over many years to get off on these sorts of ideas, both in my erotic reading and sometimes, to my detriment, in real life.
One of the first times I had sex in a car it was moving and I had the added concern of my boyfriend’s parents occupying the front seats as we drove from Melbourne to country Victoria. I have no recollection of where we had been, but I recall the interminable drone of their conversation as the brightly lit streets of the city slid past. I also knew where I was going when Warren stopped kissing me, looked deeply into my eyes, slid his finger under the elastic of my knickers and into my very wet pussy for the first time.
I’m loving his willingness to listen to and explore my ideas. That he hands me a pencil and paper and tells me to draw my ideas so he can see them too. And I know now that when the photoshoot begins he’ll start to layer his photographers insights into the mix.
Did I read too much in yr offhand comment? Maybe the card game was all you meant…
an outside bed hung with a mosquito net canopy would make a fine addition at the Oasis (my studio space), I could lay and watch the stars during and then after I am done.