Your Favourite Things – Sexy Movies
I have not done one of these posts for a while. I’m slipping.
I admit it. I am a movie geek. A bit of a film buff. I’m the annoying friend who will always know the answer to a random film dispute. Mostly. Sometimes I am mistaken. Rare. But it happens. I am a lover of the majority of genres. One or two I can’t seem to get into. Horror films I don’t find too scary. Makes me giggle when people jump in key moments in a scary movie. Any way, what I am getting to eventually is to ask my question:
What film scenes get you hot under the collar?
I’m not talking about porn. Not today (as you all know how I feel about *that* subject). More along the traditional film rails. We all know about Basic Instinct etc…blah blah blah. Enough of the sensationalist sex and nudey bits. What more subtle films or those less conventionally seen as crowd pleasers in this titillating sense and lesser known films have, for you, the sexiest moments on celluloid? It may not necessarily be a sex scene. I quite happen to find the kissing scene at the end of Breakfast At Tiffany’s so movingly passionate in a slightly weepy way. For some reason I can’t help but cry at that moment. Even if I’ve not watched the film all the way through.
I get wrapped up in my films; my DVD collection is ever-growing. I’ve just bought the amazingly geeky 5-disc edition of Blade Runner with all versions of the film captured on those wonderful plastic rounds of escapism. I went through a phase of watching sex scenes from films. Before the days of Mister. A girl has to get her kicks from somewhere…Among my VHS collection of smutty bits were Disclosure – Demi Moore and Michael Douglas and Kama Sutra – a little-known sumptuous film for the eyes.
So, ladies and gents – do share! Surprise me with your film choices!
Sway
We dance, you and I. We do. You may not recognise it as such at first, but that’s what it is. Moving to a rhythm, a gentle cadence growing between us. You turn me one way, then the other. Taking the lead.
This horizontal dance of ours. Music playing in our heads. Silently.
My head is balanced, fragile in its position over the edge of the upholstery. One sharp twitch upwards and all would be undone. But you take care in your searching, fervent kisses. They may be strong and forceful but there’s nothing but tenderness behind their actions. These moments together, alone – fleeting moments of passion. Nothing said, nothing needing saying. We understand.
I lay entangled beneath your tensed, energetic frame. Pinned by your arms around me. I can’t escape. Although why would I want to be in any other place in this moment? All I could ever need is wrapped up with me, in me, on me with you. Manna from heaven.
My head spins, lost in a delirium of where you are sending me. I lose my rhythm, the pace quickens and I am racing to keep up with you. Gasping. At once you are breathing in my hair at the same time as kissing up my thighs. Hair trapped, feet tingling.
I know not to get up soon as the light head you have given me could lead to disaster. I know to wait for the delights of the dance to subside, the swaying of my body, my mind, my soul to subside. The dizziness from being spun so quickly by one like you. One who knows all the right moves!
I may dance alone but nothing has as much passion and vigour as that dance made for lovers. Thank you for showing me the steps.
The Maggie Bra
I spoke previously of my recent excessive purchase. I feel I ought to share the outcome of that now.
Lust is a sin best served dripping with heat and passion. It may often be paired with that other avarice, greed. Possibly leading to pride. That’s how my thoughts ran when I first saw The Maggie Bra. I shall refer to it as that as that’s what the delectable picture below drew me into paying forty-something whole pounds for a bit of flimsy whimsy. Which was half price to boot. I have never paid so much for underwear before. Silky nightgowns, yes I admit I paid about forty something for that, but bras and knickers? Never.
I will allow Agent Provocateur some praise for their customer service and packaging. It arrived through the letter-box carefully sealed in the usual packaging cardboard but upon opening, they had placed it in a very pretty pink box tied with a black ribbon. I was already smiling. I have since stashed away the ribbon for future tying-up fun. Wrapped in black tissue paper, there it lay. My first impression was that the colour looks every bit as yummy as on the picture online. My immediate second thought was, ‘Is that it? i paid that much for that flimsy thing?’ I admit, it’s not much to look at when bereft of breasts, but as soon as I tried it on and adjusted the straps, that was another story entirely.
I mentioned before about never owning something as sheer as this previously. I am not the most buxom of girls, weight having been an issue with me for years. A nice handful nonetheless says Mister. Therefore, my brassiere choices have always been those of padding, push-up and under-wired to the hilt. Make the most of what I got. I do quite well with that attitude. It felt rather new and strange to wear this then. This sheer, lacy and fragile looking piece of material. But I have to say, I was very impressed. It was so very comfortable, the wires were just in the right place and everything stayed where it should have. It may not give my boobs the oompf I am used to, and I don’t think I will ever be confident enough to wear it out in public under my clothes (can’t be having things appearing on a cold, winter’s day), it shall be put to veritable use for my time with Mister. I am planning on wearing it tonight as he comes home from his job interview as part of my welcome home, end of woman’s week, love you tons treat for him I that have in mind. Possibly the outcome that this bra and many others are intended for, the ogle factor for those who are privileged to see ladies in their underwear, was very positive. Yes, things were looking up as I, quite obviously I’m ashamed to admit, paraded in front of him modeling the bra. I think it was under five minutes that he had me out of the bra.
Overall, I am rather in two minds still about my verdict. The cost is the major hang-up for me. For what it consists of and the quality of the product, I am sure I could find something just as nice in La Senza for twenty-something quid. This is a one-off, spoiling Pandorah gift to myself. The last for a little while (unless I give in and have to buy new shoes before my feet are murdered by the current two pairs I own). But to rule under this review, I shall end with where I began. Because cyclical things rock. My lust for this bra led me to hastily and greedily order it after devouring it with my eyes. The pride comes from the fact that it does the job of seduction rather well once my frame has filled the lace. Within seconds.
Which ultimately proved this to be a well-thought and worth-it purchase in my books.
Busy!
Where does the time fly to? I must be having some fun somewhere amongst all this work as the hours, days and last couple of weeks have whizzed by. I’ve returned from a flash visit to London to visit friends which was so wonderful. I think our overall conclusion, me and Mister that is, is that we shall never move to the capital. We’re country bumpkins at heart and to the core we shall forever quietly growl at them City Folk (Sorry ILB!). It’s too fast up there. I can’t handle the pace and pressure. Even something as simple as a bus ride is a stressful experience in London. But we paid our dues and danced the night away, although Mister did so grudgingly as I found out on the train journey home. He never once complained as I dragged him up to the dancefloor each time another poptastic tune came on. Although I suspect he didn’t due to the fact that Tipsy Pandorah would have dragged him up nonetheless. I have been known to make people dance with me against their will. Dance rape. New invention. It’s a terrible affliction.
Now firmly rooted back in our lovely Devon home (we even saw the sea on our walk home and the train ride has the most beautiful stretch that takes us directly past the sea near Teignmouth and Dawlish. So lucky to live here) alone once more as Mister has an interview, I’m taking stock of things now the dust has settled from the moving boxes. It hasn’t been the best of summers for a number of reasons and through it all he has been there with me. Even this weekend, I had a little moment and he was right there beside me, holding my hand, providing his shoulder for me. He may not say much, but the old adage is true about actions speaking volumes. I really don’t know how I would have coped without him. The clichés are abound, but I sincerely mean them.
We’ve had the monthly drought of sex that lasts for the week, and I’m quite looking forward to replenishing the flame. He needs a bit of spoiling I think. Perhaps a nice long body massage is in order, followed by any other requests being fulfilled. I think I may run a bath for him. Pour a glass of wine and join him. Enjoy the bubbles from Lush. Nothing like a clean man in your bed for you to dirty up again! I’ve noticed that I have a lovely looking ruler I could make very good use of. I can do strict school marm quite well. Or there’s always the secretary. Any excuse to get out my seamed hosiery. I do need to invest in some more.
I shall be attempting more juicier posts soon. I feel I have been neglecting my page here a little, but I do hope you will forgive me; getting used to the new job is taking a while, but hopefully things shall pick up shortly. Poor Mister has suffered somewhat also. Tired me can’t give him as much attention as we both would like. But as I said before, his advantage taking of me in my work clothes feels so great, I hope he will continue for many evenings to come.
Something Wicked This Way Comes
First things first, I’m not employed by Agent Provocateur, but lately I have been rather impressed by them, They lure me in with a sale with the luscious Maggie G as their model; have beautiful riding crops to die for and now, they present me with this. What am I to do. Entitled ‘The Season of the Witch’, it pushes my slightly darker buttons.
Clickthrough for larger and zoomable image from AP website
Ladies and Gentlemen: We have semi-clad men and women for your visual delights! Pretty underwear! Paganism! Voodoo! Parallels to Lady Grey’s execution as painted by Paul de la Roche, the temptation of Eve and Rubens’ Massacre of the Innocents! Ladies being very sexy with men and women! Women asserting their sexualities over the men! Woo!
What’s not to like?
I think I may be a lost cause. No hope for me at all of redemption. Nada.
Honey, I’m Home…
I have just completed my first week of contractually binding, grown-up, responsibility-owning work. I’m fucking knackered! I thought last year was taxing enough with the as good as 7am-5pm day I was spending on the training course with its placements and all, but I can tell this is going to be something else. An upping of actual contact time in work for a start, versus the hours planning time I have been used to. It’s all leading to me coming home quite tired from a twenty-minute walk home in heels. Ouch. I had to call Mister the second day for an SOS rescue as my tootsies were all blistered. I do suffer for my appearance as, apparently, ‘a stylish and classy young lady’. I heard from a work colleague that the Big Boss commented on how ‘gracefully poised’ I look. He obviously doesn’t know how things are raging underneath with nerves and unsureness. I’m still a newbie after all. I can’t expect myself to be amazing to begin with, I need to learn to accept I will make some mistakes and the work load will take a while to adjust to. This is something I hope Mister will persevere with when I come home shattered, blistered, and slightly cranky due to said tootsies.
Still, he has been a darling boy. Getting me drinks; cooking the dinner on Thursday, under instruction from the sitting room though; proffering his services as Chief Cuddler and taking my mind off things by (hmm, is it really cajoling if I need and do want it?) getting me into bed for late afternoon, early evening sex. I find it incredibly hot when he seduces me whilst I am still in my work clothes. I find it is like a perverting and degrading of the status, position and reputation of my job. It’s all rather filthy, and I love it. As I always wear a skirt to work (can’t abide trousers, so not me, yet I live in jeans) it’s all fairly accessible for him if he wants to slip a hand underneath the material.
We brought in the duvet cover the other day to the sitting room and curled ourselves up in our nudity after some sofa 69-ing. He’s slightly too tall for me in this position so after some readjusting, we just about managed to mutually take care of things. Things were taken care of very well, actually.
So, now I have started work, coming home to him whilst he is looking for work is lovely. Everyday I ask him which of the jobs we need to get done has been achieved. It’s the end of the week, and out of a possible seven or eight fairly important things needing doing (including phone the lettings people, clean the bathroom, phone the gas people) he seems to have not managed to do everything.
Crackdown next week. No jobs done, no nookie. Fair enough, right? I’m out there, slugging my guts out, in heels for Christ’s sake, and he saunters out of bed at, oh, 10.30? Midday… Oh, I don’t mind really. Just as long as he is there to give me that all important cuddle after a long, wearisome, but ultimately, as I am finding, really fun and exciting day.
Coming soon! Second part of the fun, chilly themed night. Oh! The Maggie Bra arrived…more to follow. One thing I will say – after the majority of the bras I own being padded and underwired to the hilt, the sensation of wearing something this sheer and light, no padding, was…unusually different. So that’s what my boobs look like in a naturally supported way…hmm…
