Travelling
I had an interesting conversation the other week. About time travel of all things. It was only afterwards in discussion with a friend I discovered that I was getting into the theory of relativity. Or relativism. One or t’other. Which was very curious for me and for those with which I was conversing.
‘But what’s this got to do with your blog of naughtiness?’ I hear you cry. Well, I was just getting to the smut.
The mind is a marvellous object of design, isn’t it? It can work out intricate details of physics and create sonambulistic delights of descriptive prose. And poetry. It can transport you into the depths of your imagination, wherever you desire to be.
And it can be so very real.
Once or twice I have mentioned my own experiences with daydreaming and fantasising. I wonder, I posit, I hypothesise whether in all this ‘Time is only relative to you as the individual of your own existance’ concept stuff I’ve been exploring lately with myself and some others, whether one is able to travel back to moments of extreme. Flashbacks, memories.
Stay with me – I am going somewhere with this, honest.
Memories are powerful things, and dreams even more so. They can seem as real as anything you may actually experience. I am sure you have experienced that moment upon waking and been completely bewildered that you aren’t surrounded by lush fields/naked men and/or women/clowns/bull-fighters…whatever. On a few occasions I have woken with tears in my eyes from very scary and traumatic experiences I don’t care to share. And then we have the sexies.
(‘Yay! Smut has arrived to the post’ I hear you cheer)
Boys have their wet dreams and girls have them to a certain extent. Well sort of. ish. I rarely have sex dreams but when I do, I seem to wake up in the midst of a mini-orgasm. I feel myself pulsing, throbbing and, yes, all damp downstairs. It’s great for getting me in the mood for some morning sex with him! Sometimes imagined scenarios (one recently including a girly, but drats if I can remember it. It was fab, but that’s all I can really report to you, apart from her soft skin and hair) at other times a repeat of a particularly memorable occasion with Mister.
Gosh I am really warbling on now. Suffice to say, my next post will be the dream of the memory of what we got up to last week. We brought kink back to the bedroom after far, far too long in absence. Mostly what happened but as with dreams, slightly embellished.
Drat with the warbling waffling. Resolution Number 8 ) Stop messing about with piffly posts !
Resolutions
1) Learn to drive – I’m getting rather fed up of taxi-ing to work in the morning/being dropped off and picked up by Mister. Walking home in the cold is not good for my be-heeled tootsies.
2) Keep in touch with my friends more – I’ve been a rubbish friend in terms of communication. I miss them so much. One of my girls is coming to stay for a flying 24 hour visit next Tuesday and I cannot wait!
3) Shut the door on the bad and unhappy things that happened to me in 2008 and focus on what I achieved – I passed my training course and got the ace job I am now in (whoo!). I moved in with lovely Mister who brings me so much love, joy, smiles and hugs I sorely needed in these last few months. We went on our first holiday together, just the two of us and shall be looking forward to another at Easter time.
4) Get a hair cut in January – It’s getting really long!
5) Bring the kink back – More of it, more switching, more fun! Less sleepiness.
6) Make sure I eat more bananas and don’t let them go too black so I don’t want to eat them – One of Mister’s peevs about me, apparently. And this will help me achieve Number 5.
7) Get more naughty toys and kinky paraphernalia.
Hmm, what have I forgotton?
What are your resolutions for the New Year? Do share!
I’ve been an Awful Good Girl…
It’s Christmas time, no need to be afraid..?
Why, yes. Now is the perfect time for you to be afraid. I am now on recharge mode from the last few months of working my stockings off and I’m coming out to get ya! [insert evil laugh of choice here]
My first weekday morning off work and you saw fit to take advantage of me?! Well, that’s all very well and good (you know I will very very rarely refuse you) but now it’s my turn. [insert evil grin of choice here]
*****
Readers, I am feeling frustrated. It is no good thing. Yes, yes, we’ve been having lots of the yummy, I want more, more, more sex but none of the kinky stuff. Apart from the occasional spanking. But then, that’s only to spur me on and not for its own sake. And I am missing that. I hate it that I get so sleepy in the evenings after work that I can do diddly squat on my list of kinky things to do to Mister.
All work and no kink makes Pandorah angsty.
This morning, for instance – this was a perfect time for me to jump up in an energetic state and roll around with him. Unfortunately he is not a morning person and wasn’t switched on to realise I was gagging for it. Then, after I had grown snoozy once more then he decided he’d take advantage of me. I mean, seriously! I felt so used.
I loved it.
I want him to be like that more often. Take me when he wants it, there and then. I don’t care when, how, where, why or whatfor. I just want him to be all grrrrr and use me, á la Eurythmics…no?
Do not fear – this is all going to be directed at him as well. I will not let it stand unheard by his oh-so biteable ears.
I’m feeling the need to be dominated. I want him to tell me what to do to him. Generally we’re not a very verbal pair, but the other night I felt so thrilled and something inside me jellified when he was fingering me whilst I was on top of him. Writhing together, I heard him in a muffled voice by my ear speak to me.
Come.
That one word, four letters. Such a simple act of speech. It held so much for me. That fluttering, adrenaline rush of desire filled me instantaneously and I was in my throes within a few seconds of him uttering that word.
I’m feeling all mixed up again. I don’t like it. I want things to return, or rather develop into a regular happening of kink. Not merely a one-off thing, at a special occasion. It’s something I want regularly in my sex-life. I need it. I love it.
[Edit: This post is being published as a work-in-progress. I am probably going to add to it, but I really feel I want to have this out there. Not quite sure why. I need to air out my dirty laundry or something. meh.]
Akismet Freaking Me Out
I seem to be having a rash of spam comments being caught lately.
When this happened last time, a few comments by genuine real people were caught up.
If you have commented in the last week, but haven’t seen it appear in the respective post can you re-submit it again? Otherwise email me at lady-pandorah AT hotmail DOT com.
Season’s Greetings!
Your Favourite Things – Guitarists vs. Singers
Who is the sexiest of the musicians?
Continuing from previous posts by myself and other bloggers I have been pondering. Which musician is the more sexy? The confident and showy singers or the passionate yet side-lined guitarists? I have my preference – guitarists every time. Not even the singers who play at the same time get my loins all fired up as much as those guitarists do. And I do have a penchant for all things musical that awaken the Minx.
In my first year of University (a failed attempt at a Law degree. Hated that and swapped location and subject after a year) I was at a gig in the Student Union bar. It was a little bit of a dive, dingy and ill-lit, but it had a good atmosphere and a good space for crowds (Mister and I went to a couple of fetish-themed nights there) and I discovered my desires for guitarists. Now, I already had a thing going for them, what with Mister being the talented minstrel that he is, but I had never really felt any other stirrings by an outside force. Until the night I saw that guitarist play on stage in the Student Union. The song wasn’t really up to much and the other members of the band are pretty much non-entities in my memory now and I even think the band were actually part of a big orchestra/big band type thing (see – blinkers on), but the guitarist. Well. He was entertaining. Muchly so.
He was dressed in a suit, so he had Brownie points in my mind’s eye already – suits are delicious on men, I just wanna rip them straight out of them – and whilst I can’t remember even what genre of music he was playing, his peformance was electrifying. Every inch of his body was being poured into his concentration for the song. All his focus was funelled into his guitar and even the tiniest raising of his shoulder indicated to me that here was a guy who had such a passion for his art. I was mesmerised.
It made me look at Mister’s own playing in a new light. Lately, since we’ve been in our flat, there’s rarely an evening that goes by without him playing, tinkering away, almost to the level of monotony over and over his tunes. Some melodies the work of others and some the work of his own. Predominantly self-taught as well, he’s one of the most talented amateur (although the word kinda sticks in my throat when I apply it to him) guitarists I’ve had the pleasure of being in their presence. You may say I’m biased, but hey – if a girl can stick with a guy for over five years when he has a habit of getting so locked into a riff that he will sit and play continuously for a few hours, then well – he’s got something going for him.
So anyway – returning to the poser for this post:
Which makes for the sexiest musician, Guitarists or Singers?
I am excluding from this question frontmen/women singers who also play guitar if you feel the need to refer to individuals from any famous bands out there.
I quite like Nicky Wire from the Manics – he gets all dressed up and has a great stage presence in my view. Plus his Mrs is a librarian which makes me like him all the more (not that I’m a librarian, but I do adore the books). There are tons more guitarists, but he comes to mind at the moment as Mister’s been looking up their version of Last Christmas to play over this festive season (can’t face the shame of looking up the Wham version I suppose).
So – share!
