Touch me with your naked hand…

May 31, 2008 at 4:37 pm (General Musings, Wandering Thoughts) (, , , , , , , , )

The simple act of physically connecting with another person can be the most beautiful of things.

I am not the most touchy feely girl with the majority of people. I never was one to enjoy the linking arms thing with friends whilst walking about town. Oh, it’s fine if it’s dark and I’m scared of lions, tigers and bears possibly jumping out at me from the shadows, but in the daylight hours, not so much. I’ll give them a hug if I’ve not seen them for a while, or for some emotional reason. I do like to cuddle the myriad of Mini-Pandorahs that are abound in my family - that is just a given. But as a rule, I like my space.

Until it comes to Mister. That’s a whole different kettle of fish. (I’ve always kinda liked that cliché - somehow, I imagine fish tea being brewed)

With him, I can’t seem to get enough of the touchy feely stuff. Whether it be holding his hand (so cute) or something more intimate (so hot) I feel the need to connect with him. It is a subconscious action to reach out my hand, or foot if in bed, to seek him out. I joke with myself it’s because I can’t really believe I’ve still got him, that’s he’s really mine. Even after all this time together, I consider myself a lucky girl to have him. And he’s a lucky guy too, of course.

I like to brush against him when his hand is on the gear stick in the (Our) car, paused at traffic lights. A small reminder that I am there. Like he could forget. In the night when we lay drifting together before sleep I find my toes naturally placed amongst his own. I don’t even realise that I am doing it half of the time.

I once despaired after working in a café for my summer job, the detergent from the dishwasher gave me such a bad reaction I was without fingerprints for a few months thus erasing my sensitivity there (I could have done some bank jobs though…). My fingertips are some of my most sensitive areas of skin and I can spend hours trailing them over his back - it feels exquisite to my hands to do that, makes them all tingly and aroused. I was not a happy Pandorah then. Not only could I not grip or open anything firmly, I couldn’t do what I was addicted to the most - touching up Mister! Disaster! Luckily I am happy to report I am fully fingerprint functional once more.

Of all the senses, touch is very important to relationships. Knowing just how softly or firmly to handle different areas of the body for different reactions is essential. A hand can caress, hold, embrace as well as spank, poke or scratch. So much emotion I hold within my hands for my man and the express it through gestures as well.

I hope to high heavens I shall always have this sense, and I know never to take it for granted.

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Piqued Pandorah

May 27, 2008 at 4:26 pm (General Musings) (, , , , , , )

I’m not often impressed by porn, but this I have to say is a cut above most things. This is what I call extreme outdoor pursuits!

http://youporn.com/watch/195690/rock-climbing/

I love their little ‘whee/whoo!’ at the end of this clip!

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I’ve Missed You…

May 25, 2008 at 3:51 pm (General Musings, Naughty Nice and all things Inbetween, Separation) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Walking home in the rain - alas, no outdoor kisses today, it’s not quite the right time just yet - my excitement must have been palpable to him.

We had spent the evening in the company of some of my raucous sisters and their partners, giggling away at an adult version of Trivial Pursuit. Quite educational, actually. You’d think the plural of penis would be either peni or penises, but no - it is actually penes. See. Educational. I’ve also come away with a new word to use in my next slanging match. Ladies - don’t be flattered if you are called a drazel. Unless you go in for that kind of talk.

I thought I would dress relatively nicely, and rather than the usual jeans, jumper get up I would wear - tis family, they don’t care what I look like, as long as I’m having a nice time - I chose one of my preferred skirts and purple top thing. (I’m not one for detailed clothes descriptions. I’d make a pretty poor Horny Housewife Hotline phonegirl) Underneath I took care there as well by adorning my frame with a rather nice set of greeny-turquoise bra and French knickers. Finished off with some leg-warming but rather fetching over the knee sock things. Slightly Catholic school-girl.

I had made a bit of an effort. It was a big night. The first time in over a year I was planning on having nookie without a condom.

I was slightly worried we’d both be too knackered and tipsy to perform. We stayed at my sister’s until 3am and by the time we had walked back to my parents’ house and fed and watered ourselves (nighttime munchies are a killer) it was nearly 4am when we hit the sack. Was all my preparation and care to no avail after all?

Thank the heavens we were both as randy as two rabbits. Or bonobos. I hear they are randy primates.

We fell on eachother with a subdued, yet strangely urgent ardour. The juxtaposition of being in a tipsy state of sleepiness, but with the desirous need to have one another. Then and There. Immediately. Our kisses were tinged with wine and cider, making for smiled-through clinches with slight smirks. We quickly got serious as we undressed one another and began roaming our hands over every surface of naked skin we could touch. I was impressed by his state of awake-ness at that time as he proceeded to touch me up in that intimate spot, playing swiftly becoming searching, seeking out my response he loves. The arched back, the twisting body, the grasping of sheets he finds such satisfaction in seeing me perform. When given breathing space, I returned the favour. Hunting for his own gasps and caught breaths. He makes such good sounds when he’s being handled. Cross between a purr and a growl.

There is nothing hotter for me that him asking permission or wanting direction, and last night he did both. He wanted guidance to my G-spot. He found it. He asked to enter me without a condom. I granted him that permission. How could I deny him? I was longing for it. He pulled me over onto him and slipped inside me. It was blissful not having to pause and root around my bag for a few minutes. The subtle difference in feeling of having him within me with no barriers was indescribably wonderful. I can’t place words on why it felt delicious. It just was.

After we had reached our peak and were on the descent once more I whispered to him, his head lying on my chest in our embrace, ‘I’ve missed you so much.’

It was all I had anticipated, and much, much more. Isn’t is nice when that happens?

 

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Anticipation

May 23, 2008 at 12:47 pm (General Musings, Wandering Thoughts) (, , , , , , , , )

Alone on an afternoon, this afternoon, my thoughts begin to wander.

The week ahead holds in it such possiblilties. I have some time off and I want to take advantage of that fact and really spend some good me and Mister time together. My head swims in a current of anticipatory situations. A day trip somewhere in Our New Car perhaps? I quite fancy visiting the moors and finding some secluded spot where only the sheep and ponies would disturb us. I should take a blanket. A picnic too.

Or maybe if the weather turns rubbish…spend the day in bed. We haven’t done that for so long. Some of my happiest times are to be found curled up with him, listening to the rain outside. I find the sound very soothing, and count my blessings that I am inside and have a roof over my head. Kissing in a downpour is effortlessly sexy, by the way. It’s probably the only time you would find me smiling without an umbrella in a storm. Pandorah doesn’t like getting wet much, she tends to turn a bit Gremlin-like.

I think I shall get back to my daydreaming now: The two of us entwined on a blanket in a field or on the moors. Shoes kicked off and toes tickling. Running my leg up against his thigh, my hand finding that place on his neck that makes him shiver. Rolling over, bits of the countryside in my hair.

It’s going to be a nice, lazy afternoon of personal solitude and fantasising. Looking ahead to the week with a smile and the butterflies. Oh yes, I still get the butterflies after five years. It is a beautiful feeling.

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Back on the Wagon

May 21, 2008 at 9:00 pm (General Musings)

After just over a year of being Pill free I can now confirm I am back on the synthetic hormone wagon! I’m very much anticipating more spontaneous sexy moments now. I think Mister was starting to get tired of the break in the momentum each time we had to stop to locate my bag to get out a condom. I know I was finding it tedious. Then there’s the moment afterwards with its removal…there’s good icky, and then there’s bad icky. These times were always the latter for us. Gave us something to giggle at though! Doesn’t take much for me to start giggling.

I was really beginning to miss the times, especially in the mornings, when Mister would sidle up behind me and we’d have some very nice sleepy sex. So I can’t wait for that to start again. Whilst it was all very interesting playing the ‘Which day will it fall on this month?’ game, I quite fancy being able to pin down the exact time I will have my girly week. Oh, that’s another thing! I am also looking forward to not having 7 day-long abstinences from Mister!! Nightmare! For some reason, being off the Pill has prolonged these monthly visits.

Also, it will be a welcome return to not being so paranoid at Tom and Harry’s friend’s proximity to my lady garden (Alright, the euphemisms are getting tired too). I want to embrace his intimate closeness with me, not to be worried about the consequences of it. The only consequences I want to be left with is a blissed out feeling and a fuzziness in my tummy from a good seeing to.

With all that in mind, I finally got round to seeing the smiley lady doctor yesterday - what is it about an older woman giving you sex/contraception advice that is oddly reassuring when they’re so mumsy? - and took my first one today. So next week when I have the time off I badly need at the moment, I am going to have some lovely reconnecting time with him and hopefully welcome a return to spontaneous friskiness.

Also known as ‘Bucket-Loads of Sex’

Yay.

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‘She that makes me sin awards me pain’, Part Three

May 20, 2008 at 7:21 pm (Control & Power, Fantasies/Fiction, Naughty Nice and all things Inbetween, The Box has been opened...) (, , , , , , , , , )

~ Finally, the third and final part of my exploration into erotica. Refresh your memories with Part I and Part II. This is a little longer than the first two visits into fiction, but I hope you won’t tail off and your attention is retained! ~

 

‘I want to make you scream tonight, scream out like you never have before.’ She stood over him with the belt in her hand and slowly began to raise it above her head.

In an instant, he heard the leather sweep down and strike the outer part of his thigh. It made him wince, his legs drew up and his mouth opened in shock. It wasn’t all that stingy; she could have been meaner and really let loose, but the initial impact had had its effect. She could see the top of his forehead above the red silk scarf crinkle in a grimace she was sure was echoed in his covered eyes. Immediately she countered this welt with a soft kiss in the same spot. She wanted to show him she wasn’t completely twisted. And that she could be softened, if he gave her the right response.

‘Just the one to begin with, my love,’ she muffled into his skin as she soothed it with her soft lips. He wasn’t quite sure if she was referring to the strike or the kiss. One thing was certain, however, and that was the fact he did not know what to expect next. He felt his girl move away from his tensed body and heard a rustling from somewhere in the bedroom. He took this opportunity to test his blindfold. Shifting slightly in his seat to not attract her attention, he raised a corner of the scarf so one blue eye could slowly take in the view. Bent over the side table, his girl was peering into her bag. Her seamed stockings looks truly delicious when seen from behind, the lines leading up to her perfectly formed arse. It made his mouth water at the delights that lay between those legs, and, not to spoil her fun, replaced the blindfold for the time being. A metallic clink became audible, along with a ripple of material. 

Several questions were running through his head in the moment he heard the unmistakable sound of his lighter. ‘Candles. She’s lighting candles.’ The familiar petrol smell wafted to his nose momentarily, informing him she was close at hand at least.

‘Got you guessing, have I?’ She spoke in that low, almost growl-like voice of hers when she is in a mischievous mind. He was about to answer her when he felt a curious warming sensation at his elbow. Not enough to be uncomfortable at first, but it increased in temperature quickly. He gasped as he realised it was a candle flame. ‘What the…!’ was all he managed to get out before being met full on with a kiss. As quickly as the kiss was brought on, the heat dissipated and she chuckled lightly into his mouth.

Their mouths moved together slowly, deeply. The girl placed the candle she had been toying with on the side table as she moved her hands over his chest, up to his face, cradling his head, drawing him to her. Fingers entwined in his hair and she let escape a murmured moan. Almost with a sigh, he replied. She was straddling him now, her underwear the only barrier between the pair. His arms sprung into action as they swept up her back into her long dark hair. Knowing how this made her melt and not wanting to relinquish her hold over him just yet, she quickly moved them back down her body, to her breasts. No man in his right mind would want to argue with that choice. Without his sight, he felt his way softly around the outer-edges of her breasts, where they were ever-so slightly more sensitive, lightly brushing his fingertips over the warm skin. He reached in, under her bra to find her nipples nicely aroused. She saw his involuntary smile and knew his thoughts. Moving down his neck, her tongue traced a line from his jaw to his chest. A nail followed to make sure his senses weren’t softened. Only gently, though. A small reminder not to be lured into a false sense of security.

She reached over to the side table where she had lain out some of the contents of her bag. Not all of them would be used, but ‘Be Prepared’ she thought. Her hand darted over the items, fingers dancing past the handcuffs, the tassly whip. ‘Oh, the fun we’ll have later on!’ She spoke, half to herself. He heard the almost childlike glee in her tone. Was she going to use the whip, after all? Or just her nails? He was answered not with another stinging response, but a soft, glistening hand. A scent of Ylang Ylang passed up to his face and he inhaled the massage oil as it was applied to his skin.

He adored this oil. They both did. Not only was the scent divine, but it was the best in a line of massage oils they owned and had experimented with. A truly sensual aroma encircled the two of them now, each inhaling the intoxicating scent arousing the senses. She too was becoming giddy with the oil and lost in the action of massaging the skin on his torso. Almost hypnotically her arms were moving lower towards his hips, thighs and his beautifully lengthened shaft. Her concentration was being drawn away from his actions as she focused on her movements. She never noticed the blindfold being slipped from his eyes, still knotted.

He caught her unawares by jolting upright suddenly in the chair, bringing her face to face, eye to eye. The pair stared at each other. She in mock-shock at the escape. He with the defiant glare of an untethered hound. In one movement, he stood up and moved her roughly against the nearest wall. This was what she had been waiting for all along. How far would he submit before rebelling and breaking free? She smiled at him, one eyebrow raised in satisfaction. He held her hands together in one of his as he removed her blue bra, slipping the straps down her slender arms before sliding down to remove her French knickers. Kissing the still stockinged legs as he worked his way back up to her. He gently licked the inside of her thighs above the stockingtop seams, knowing it would make her shiver. Inches away from her waiting pussy, he resisted. For now.

As she hooked her left leg over his hip to ease their movement into one another she clawed his back, only lightly - the tingling sensation timed perfectly to the first inward thrust of his cock. They savoured the initial feeling as they always did every time they made love. The heel of her foot pressed in against his soft flesh, anchoring herself to him, pressing him deeper inside. He placed his head into her neck and nipped playfully as he began to move, each thrust pinning her to the wall, hair becoming dishevelled against it.

‘I’ll… make you a deal,’ he managed to say in between increasingly ragged breaths. ‘How about… I make you scream first,’ he continued, ‘Before we… worry about me?’

‘H..honey,’ she replied breathlessly, ‘That’s all I ever wanted… you only had to speak up for yourself.’

Their pace quickened, and his hand snaked down between them to her heated sex and began his favourite past-time - bringing his girl everything she wanted.

And more.

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It’s Finally on it’s Way!

May 19, 2008 at 10:31 pm (General Musings)

‘She that makes me sin awards me pain’ update!

I’ve finally got round to writing the third part of my fictional fantasy. I’m in the process of editing it and will post it up as soon as possible. To refresh your memories, go visit the previous entries.

Part One

Part Two

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Triple Celebrations

May 17, 2008 at 4:51 pm (General Musings, Wandering Thoughts) (, , , , , , )

Isn’t lovely when things happen on Fridays to make you feel that the weekend is going to be just wonderful? It has been a very hectic week in my world for lots of reasons. But the week has subsequently ended on a massive high.

1. We’re trying to get round to finalising the car business - paperwork, insurance - all that dull but essential stuff. As soon as I get an envelope and stamp I can officially start calling it m…our car. Yes, our car, that’t it. But it’s practically mine. Well, alright I can’t actually drive it yet - Some big deal with not having had lessons yet, but being my sister’s old car I am sure you would agree that by inheritance, it is my car. Even though Mister will be doing most of the driving. And will be staying at his place. Hmm, maybe I have issues.

2. Today marks the fifth anniversary of our first date together. Where Mister took me out for a meal to a pub and managed to get 50% discount as he worked there. Such a prudent lad. Money conscious - a good thing in a man (until it comes to buying pressies for Pandorah, bien sur). Five years ago today we shared our first kiss in a crowded town nightclub. It was initialised by my friend who dared us into it. Bless her. Love her to pieces. Always thinking of me.

3. The final point of celebration has come out of the blue, really. My course has been so hectic since starting in September, it has steadily been increasing in pressure and momentum in the last few weeks. Assignment deadlines, the continuous planning I have to do as well as the actual practical side to the course. On top of all this I have had to be in the process of job hunting. Looking round teh interweb for advertisements on the special websites they have for my profession and sending off letters of application to various parts of the Westcountry. I don’t want to go too far, you see. Family and Mister issues mainly. I had one interview a couple of months ago, but as my other sister said (I have many), ‘It must not have been for you for a reason’. I think she has precognisant powers now. Because I can officially announce, after a whirlwind week…

I has a job!

Whoooooop! I only applied on Tuesday. They rang me within 24 hours on Wednesday inviting me to an interview on Friday. I’ve never rushed around so quickly in my life! I am so thrilled, it’s a fabulous location for the position and I really can’t wait to start as a proper real life and everythink professional Pandorah lady.

I just have to make it through the next four weeks to the end of my course. Sorted.

:)

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First Contact

May 11, 2008 at 11:41 pm (Wandering Thoughts) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

Five.

The number that is most reflective to me this evening. It is the number of fingers on the hands I love to interlock with my own. Fingers that know my body so well. How to stroke, caress. How to hold. How to tickle. The tactile nature of those individual digits. How they become a hug when joined by arms around my back; over my shoulders. Holding my face in the palms stemming from the fingers. Bringing my face to yours in holy palmer’s kiss.

Five.

The number of toes on each foot. Feet I hold with care in my hands, teasing out the stresses of a day’s tension captured within. Starting with your toes I move my way up your body massaging every centimetre. Five toes connected to one of your most sensitive areas. The soles of your feet. Even a light tap of my little finger can send you jumping in shivers. Of delight? Of shock? Both I hope.

Five.

Five years today since we first met properly and had a confusing, repeated conversation in a club over terrible and loud music. Since you insulted the my love of Shakespeare to my face. Five years since our first and only true argument (that is still on-going by the way). No, Shakespeare is not crap. It is beautiful. It is Everyman’s literature.

Five.

The number of years we shall celebrate next weekend of being a pair, a couple, boyfriend and girlfriend. You and Me. Mister and Pandorah. Five years since our first date after the tireless effort you put into chasing me. After the waiting in a bar for a young, innocent and timid girl who never showed due to her nervousness of meeting up with a guy she hardly knew. Five years of me being grateful to you for persevering with that timid girl, knowing she would be worth the hassle and frustration of going after.

Five.

Five years since I discovered for myself the reason for fairytales, romances of trashy novels, poetry, song. That fluttering butterfly was awakened five years ago. She still floats a little higher each time she sees you. Each time she thinks about you, dreams about you.

Five.

Five years I soon will have spent having traversed the stage of adult mischief and naughtiness. Five years of nocturnal fun and daytime bliss in bed with you. Five years since that innocent and timid girl grew her wings and began to soar up to the dizzying heights of fragile happiness, holding your hand all that way. Knowing how precious it is up there. Five years soon since that innocent girl lost her innocence. She bit that apple and wanted more. And you handed her a whole bushel.

Five.

A number I can reflect on this evening. A number that sits comfortably in my head. A number I relate with happiness.

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Pimms, Barbecues and Heat, oh my!

May 11, 2008 at 11:07 pm (General Musings)

Well, not the Pimms - but plenty of cloudy lemonade. That just screams sunshine and summer lazy picnics. Jolly hockey sticks optional.

The British Spring has surpassed itself over the last week or so. With just a minor blip on Thursday night (it’s overnight - I love to listen to the rain whilst I fall asleep) we’ve had some pretty spectacular hot heat and blissful rays of sun. As I type, I currently have the remnants of beach on the outskirts of my feet from a sandy afternoon spent in the company of friends and Mister and a barbecue. What more could I ask for?

(Apart from having the security of knowing I have a job at the end of my course and all my planning have been miraculously done by wonderful little pixies - but alas, no luck there)

The heat does strange things to people. It makes Mister want to swim half a mile in the still freezing cold Atlantic sea. It makes people either a) more energetic and sporty (I actually partook in a game of beach rounders today) or b) incredibly lethargic. It also makes me that extra bit frisky. Sun and warmth = smiley happy Pandorah. A smiley happy Pandorah = a visibly more playful and frisky one. It’s a common equation in the world.

I am now scheming away in my twisted little head various plots and conspiracies involving the pair of us and lots of hay fields, secluded beaches and woods as well as hot, sweaty nights together. It’s our five year anniversary next weekend, and if the weather holds out I’m planning on some al fresco naughtiness. Maybe. Hopefully. Tantalisingly.

I’ve noticed that my witterings on here have started to become a little sparse. Partially because I have had little time to spend here as many others are finding - end of the academic year and it’s a manic rush to the finish line. Thank goodness I have no exams to revise for this time, but still the pressure is certainly mounting. Job applications are piling up. Well. Not so much piling up as there doesn’t appear to be as many jobs as everyone kept promising. More fluttering down once in a while.

Still. Only 25 working weekdays left until I qualify. Scary scary. The countdown is ticking. After that and I shall be free for the summer to enjoy my time and learn to drive. Me and Mister have just upped the commitment factor - we’ve bought a car together. Now it’s getting properly serious!

I apologise for the rambling in this post. Just had to air some thoughts of the past weekend. More of the usual smut and debauchery soon. Promise.

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