This is Desire
I am a girl on edge. It is becoming clearer and clearer to me that I need him. I want him. I want his eyes to gaze at me, burning over my skin. I need him to hold me, not tenderly, but forcefully. Like in the movies - girl turns to walk away and is grabbed and swung round into passionate embrace.
Desire. It eats away at me. It’s all fine to have our distance from one another, but when it comes to the essential being of me, I need to have him. Possessive? Dependent? I don’t know. All I know is how I feel and I feel ablaze. I feel my blood running through my body, feel it coursing its way from my heart, down through the flutterings of my stomach centering at my pussy and further down to make my toes tingle. All that at the single, instant thought of him. They say that when a girl is aroused her mouth darkens subtly, making them even more sensitive to touch. No wonder it makes me jump so when he lightly traces his fingertip over my lips.
I want to have him to myself, alone in our place. No distractions. Silence. Just him and me together left to our own minds’ fantasies, our dreams. Nightmares? I need to have all the time it takes to look over him, from the tips of his hair downwards. The time to drink him in with my own eyes.
Away from eachother for only a day or two, a mere matter of hours in fact, and this desperation to have him is ridiculous. Goodness knows how I coped when it was three, four, five weeks apart. The knowledge that the time is fast approaching when we will be under one another’s feet all the time is making the experience of distance unbearable. I fidget. Unable to be still - one of my bad habits. fingers always twitching. Nerves? Worries? Guilty conscience? When I am with him I am able to be still. To be calm. Placid. His soothing nature radiates around me, reflecting into myself and it rubs off on me.
I see him in a few hours’ time. Can I last that long without that exploding feeling to return? I’ll have to wait. Bide my time. The spider waiting. Patience is a virtue. Rest your soul in patience, Pandorah! Yes.
[Is it me or am I putting too many subtle references in my posts? This one contains at least three: One to a book, another to a play and a third to a song. Answers on a comment card if you know any of them. Win an E-Cookie]
House Warming
So, I have alluded to here and there that the past week and a half has been pretty shite. I won’t go into it - personal stuff and all that - but it’s been emotionally draining. And we’ll leave it at that. What I will say is that a few months ago I bought two tickets to a festival in my locality of the Westcountry in merry old England that both myself and Mister go to each year since it began six years ago. Not to be wasteful of the pennies we had spent, I wanted to still go even though it was so badly timed with everything that’s going on right now. I was in two minds but economic sense, family persuasion, the idea that it would be a good way of escaping and taking time out from the situation and the fact that missing out on one year would be disastrous for my OCD-ness made me come round to actually going.
I have never been so muddy in my life.
Last year was muddy. This year was soggy, damp, boggy, swamp-like, windy, rainy and muddy. But I still enjoyed myself. Saw some great music, bands and comedians and removed the furrow from my worried over-emotional forehead. The final night, Sunday, I suggested to Mister that we pack up early and drive to our shiny new flat we now have keys for (eee!). So after being towed by a helpful tractor man through the mud we eventually arrived at our home. As we were dropping off to sleep I caught him mumbling that this was our bedroom, our bed. My cockles were warmed.
But before all that snuggling - we christened the flat. We’d actually done the deed last week after Mister had decided to get frisky with me on the floor of the sitting room as I sat lying against him inbetween his legs as I tuned in the TV and retired to the bedroom then, but we hadn’t spent the night there as we were this Sunday night.
We were both physically exhausted from jigging about to the music all day then hauling camping gear up a mudslide, but as we were dropping off to sleep he vocalised what I had been thinking for a few weeks. We have a new black metal bedframe and our thoughts on that topic were running parallel to one another.
I am going to tie you to this bed. Arms and legs to the bedframe. He told me.
Is that a threat or a promise? I retorted.
To which he promptly became very stirred by the thought. Already naked - he refuses to wear anything in bed - his hands began to snake through my nightwear. Slowly shifting my waistband lower as he drew nearer to his goal. The action of being slowly and deliberately undressed by him truly is one of the things that gets me very turned on, very quickly. My own hands were seeking out his body, reaching behind me as he held me in his arms. I felt his hard cock press into my back - another sure fire way to turn me on, knowing he is feeling as randy as I am. The need to have one another was growing stronger.
He grasped at my hair and held my wrists, future echoes I hope of what will ensue once we are settled in permanently. I clawed at his shoulders and drew him closer to me, wanting to feel the weight of his body against, on top of, mine. Sitting back and looking at me, I knew he wanted to take me from behind. I positioned myself and as he entered me that beautiful rush swept over my body. There’s nothing quite like that first thrust, my body readjusting to the familiar, yet every time unique feeling. In our aroused but tired state, I was more at ease in relaxing into completely throwing myself into the moment and soon found myself moaning along with Mister’s own vocal contribution.
We christened the bed nicely. It doesn’t make a creak or noise like my current bed at my parents’ house. Wonderful! No longer will I have to worry about breaking the springs, nor will I have to worry about waking up those in adjoining rooms. We fell to drowsiness contented, happy and wrapped in one another’s arms.
Until we had to shift into a more suitable sleeping position apart. But, as always, we still had our physical connection - toe to toe, we fell into blissful dreams of the future, far from the worries of the present. It will all work out alright. It may take a little while to get there with a few more tears, but I know it will be better again soon.
Show Off
I’ve been shopping. I bought a new ring yesterday. Don’t you agree it goes perfectly with my new underwear I bought last week?
It’s a silver band with turquoise set into it. I’ve been after one of these types of rings for years and had never been able to find one that a) fitted my fingers and, b) I liked. This fits both. I am also fond of my knickers. I bought the matching bra with this from La Senza last week. I seem to be developing a monochrome black and white theme to a number of my wardrobe items. I’m not 100% convinced about the knickers. They’re lovely, but they are more comfortable if worn with a skirt as the hem-line is floaty and loose rather than clinging to my skin. I do love the embroidery, though.
I painted my nails especially for this picture. My toes are almost permenantly this colour. I do like it. A deep red. The name on the bottle is ‘Desire’, how apt. My left hand is currently naked of colour, I may paint it later, but it will most probably chip within an hour of working at the café tomorrow morning. Still, fun while it lasts, eh?
I’m often curious as to which pair of underwear Mister prefers, and whether they are the same ones that I like the most. I have some green/turquoise lacy French knickers that look fabulous on me, I think. Especially with the matching bra. I am a sucker for coordination. He does like these, but his favourites are my pair of cream/off-white knickers which are designed to reduce VPL. I have an identical pair in black, but he prefers the lighter colour as he says it compliments my skin tone and shapely bottom. I have to admit, they look pretty fine on when I twist around to look at my posterior. The thing is, I don’t have a matching bra for them. Grr. I’m not one, really for white/cream bras. I am to be found in a black bra most days. I own very few white tops and so never really have the difficulty of disguising the colour of my underwear under such garments. The knickers do seem to go well with the turquoise bra, and I use that to great effect. Mister is always too keen to remove all my clothes at any rate, and sometimes neglects to remember the thought I put into choosing them in his hurry to get me nekkid. But he Always comments when I wear the creamy coloured pair. So I know he appreciates them. As I do the compliment.
I get very hot and steamy when he reaches into my knickers. It’s that trespassing, the crossing of a boundary. It’s not quite the same when he reaches down to me when I am without clothes. There’s something very teenage-ish in the whole ‘I’m touching you through your panties, how wicked of me!’ look that gets into his eyes. My response is almost always the same - to look disprovingly at him at the temerity of his actions then to relinquish all thoughts of denying or preventing him and sit or lie back and enjoy his attention. Usually at the same time my hand will snake itself to his crotch to find him hard and hot under my fingers. I have a little thing I do where I scratch at the fabric of his jeans, where it rouches up and no skin is directly under it, to send tingles into his groin. A nice trick up my sleeve.
So, there you go, my very own Half Nekkid Pandorah shot. In colour, too! You lucky, lucky devils. I’m not going to be going in for HNTs; not my style, I regret. Haven’t told Mister about this yet, maybe I’ll leave it for him to find in his own time.
I could be waiting a while for his response. Shhh…don’t tell on me!
Sexy Music Videos - Madonna
I may be a little late in this posting, by about 18 years, but after revisiting some of Madonna’s music videos, I felt I had to write about them. We’ve all heard about her shenanigans of the 90s and her continuing pursuance of shock-factor publicity. There are her recent videos of her trying too hard to show she’s still a sexual being and possesses the flexibility of a slinky which roughly started with her collaboration with Britney and has most recently been showing off with another Disney Club Alumni, Justin Trousersnake in ‘4 Minutes’. I don’t want to talk about that. I want to go back to when she was truly flicking the switches of men and women. The early 90s.
There are a few videos in particular that I find myself getting rather hot and bothered whilst watching, namely ‘Erotica’ and ‘Justify My Love’. The triple combination of music, lyrics and moving image creates an escapists and voyeur’s paradise of kinky fun. Take a look at this still from ‘Erotica’:
I shall end with some musings over lyrics from Our Lady of the Kink:
Excuse the fuzz.
This is what you are left with at the end of ‘Justify My Love’. They occur earlier in her song itself and is silently repeated here so this is the lasting impression, the ghost image, you are left with after the video has left your screen. Again, the ambiguity seeps back in. Sure, a man, or woman for that matter, is lessened by their dependence entirely on the permission of another. But I don’t feel that the above sentence rings true for the images we have just seen. Or from ‘Erotica’. (In fact, that video could be ended with the exact opposite sentence ‘Rich is the man…’) They all seem to be pretty exuberant in their playing. Here’s the rub, however, for me. Pleasure is always a two way thing, even if you are in a Dom/sub relationship. A lot rides on the submissive’s consent – which in other eyes could be named permission – be it arranged a long time ago or in the instant their session begins in being treated in that manner. So, for me and my viewpoint on sex, pleasures can depend on the permission of another, but it is never a complete dependence. There should always be some level of communication and balancing (even if differently weighted) of permissions.
The videos here are just a little taster of things that I find erotic in life. Music, images, words. This combination is personally what can tip things over for me. I’ve talked before about music and songs I find sexy as well as exhibiting some of my own enticing words and images in front of you all. Sex and sexuality is always going to be a subjective area for people. Sometimes, I think, moments come along where we all unite together and find one individual the epitome of sex. And arguably, Madonna in these videos is that individual as someone enjoying her sexuality, laughing and having fun all at the same time being deadly serious in her pursuance of pleasure.
Pinch Punch
I wrote in my new shiny widget over there the other day —>
It was about pinching. Timely, of course, being the first of the month the other day. I wonder - do they have this in America? Calling my US readers: Do they have ‘Pinch punch, first of the month!’ in families across the states? Or is it just an English thing?
Back to sex. Mmm.
Mister has a habit of pinching me. Not nasty, Primary School kid-like pinches in my arms (I’m the one that does those) but pinches around my intimate areas. He pinches my pussy. This I find at the same time rather odd and a weird thing to do, but it’s also rather fun and arousing. He doesn’t exactly pinch my pussy itself, more like the surrounding areas. The place where the skin begins to get fleshier as I’m lying on my back and the muscular buttocks start. Little nips around there. I guess it’s stimulating the blood flow to the area and gets my sensitivity going down there.
He doesn’t do it all the time, every time, but it makes me start and take notice all the more of what his hands are doing.
Still, I think it’s a little odd. Do your partners have a weird little thing they do to you? Or that you do to them? I’m curious once again.
I like to pinch now and then. Maybe just so that he can reciprocate in kind. I do love my mild masochism. We have some nipple clamps somewhere about the place. Probably in the box. We used them a few times, and I have one Really Hot picture of Mister on my phone that I took whilst he was blindfolded, tied and nipple clamped on my desk chair a few years ago in my Uni digs. It’s a bit fuzzy, being a cameraphone photo, but it still makes me go all gooey inside when I see it. I would love to post it up here, but Mister has requested that no photos go up of him on my site. If I ever have a good scratchy moment, I may copy Blacksilk and show off my welts on his skin, if he allows it. The last time we went in for that, I so wish I had my camera to take pics. He looked so yummy with his red lines over his arse and flexed shoulder-blades.
I had to crop the fake nails, they were just hideous
Moving on.
I seem to be finding it difficult to write posts lately. I’ve looked back over a few of the more recent ones, and they’re not as tingly as I would like them to be. I have made up my mind to write some more smuttier stuff and get my creative juices flowing. I want to have a few more stories up for you in the coming weeks. Once I’ve moved, it’ll be a while before I get phone and broadband set up in our flat so I’ll be flung back to the Stone Age without t’internet for a few weeks, methinks. How I’ll cope is a matter I don’t want to contemplate just yet, though. I want to leave you with more than a few scraps of meat to keep you going without me.
(Egotist, me? Never)
So I’ll be working on some stories this week to post up now and again before I have my hiatus, and perhaps a tasteful (tasty?) photograph.
Your Favourite Things
Last week I set you the challenge of being brave enough to share your first times with me and the other readers of this purple page I’ve got going on here - thank you for that. I thought I would now incorporate that into a running theme of sharing stories and bits and pieces, if you’re all game.
I’ve had a few posts about what I keep hidden away in my drawers in the bedroom. I talked about my adoration and slight obsession with scarves and tying as well as the slippery indulgences of massage oil, lubes and whatnot. So to begin with in my new exploration into the blogging side of things, what I’d like to know is:
What is your favourite thing that you keep squirrelled away in your bedroom?
Of course I’m talking sex, honeys, so let’s hear about your favourite sex toy you own, or what you like to bring out to play with your partner(s). It could be something specifically bought from an Adult Store, or it could be a pervertable - something that is perfectly innocent in reality, but you use it for kinky stuff - that you have a fancy for.
Preferably, I’d love to hear how you use said item, instead of a two word response. I know some readers like to share and boast, so some story weaving wouldn’t be amiss!
Of course, here’s my contribution:
My carnal desires vary from being a very giving lover to a selfish one from time to time and wanting all the pleasure to be directed at myself. I have a very high sex-drive, I think, and I find it hard to go a day without an orgasm. At such times when I am aroused, Mister may not be around - when I come home from work in my café and slink into bed to rest my wary feet and back my thoughts drift to the sensual side of things and I feel the need to have some, shall we say, ‘Me Time’.
It’s that kind of horny that means I need to come Right Here, Right Now and the only thing that I know will get me there quickly is lying waiting for my itching fingers to grab hold of it from my bedside drawer. It’s inches away, my mind is desperate for that release and I bring out my favourite buzzy thing. It isn’t of any substantial size. Three inches, maybe, and slightly larger than the width and weight of an AA battery. A snug fit for my hand. Pointed at the tip for targeted vibrations, this baby has the look and marketing of a bullet. And goodness, doesn’t it fire a direct hit! I’ve had it for a while and the battery is still good and delivers a stong buzz. It has a cute purple button on the base to switch it on and off it goes like lightning. Just what I need to get myself off. I find that I orgasm within a minute or two of focusing it on my clit. Heaven.
I get my relief and my daily fix, setting me up very nicely for an evening of the Real Thing.
Now, your turn.
Roundup (Isn’t that some weedkiller brand?)
Firstly - My eternal gratitude in indulging my little sordid mind by sharing your First Times on the previous post. There were some great stories included! I might make a feature of it where we share on a theme. Keep your kinky and vanilla eyes peeled!
Next off, news in Pandorah-land: Mister and I are one step closer to moving in! We’ve been house-hunting in the area where I have my job that begins in the Autumn (Eee! Still smiling like a Cheshire Cat over that!) and we’ve been provisionally accepted by a landlord for a flat 
It’s quite spacious and even has a little balcony I can shove Mister out onto when he wants to have one of those Cancer Sticks of his. Plus, and more importantly, it has two lovely bedrooms, the master of which has..wait for it girls…a mini built in walk-in wardrobe! How fabulous is that?! You may be able to tell, but I’m a teency little bit excited! Roll on references!
And finally - Today I celebrate five years of popping my cherry. I say I celebrate as he contests this date, thinking I gave in to his charms a lot quicker. But I remember very clearly. I remember the evening and its details. I’m right, he’s mistaken. Ha. I shall be seeing him this evening and as we have the house to ourselves I fully intend to make the most of it…
Details to follow my dear readers. Don’t you fret about that.
Cherry Popping Good
After reading a post on another lovely lady’s blog, I got into wondering about The First Time.
You may or may not know, depending on your regularity (?) of visits to my blog here, that the man I am with, Mister, was the one to break me in five years ago - Oh! just remembered, it will be five years to the day on the 27th! (Am I the only one to remember the date I lost my virginity?)
Anyway. I was wondering…open question to all you guys and gals. And possibly to encourage any lurkers to make a comment:
How/when/where did you lose your virginity and with whom?
I guess, being the poser of the question, I should really answer the question first. It was about this time five years ago, the carnival week was upon us in our little town. The evening had been spent in the company of friends and alcohol. Mister met me afterwards and I introduced him to my parents for the first time. After some more imbibing of the potato extract (or whatever the hell vodka is made from) we squirreled ourselves away into the night and he drove me to a beach nearby. The moon was out, and glistened upon the water. I could hear the sound of the waves crashing in front of us as we kissed. Unfortunately, we weren’t on the actual beach, no. I lost my virginity in his car. Classy. But at least it was by the sea. So a semi-romantic anecdote.
So, come on! Share! I’m nosy.
Conversations
I’ve just returned from a flying visit to my friend’s graduation in Wales. I’d forgotten just how much I loved being in that city. Memories were revisited of times gone by and new ones were created. My friend looked beautiful in her graduation gown and cap. But that’s not what I’m here to talk about. Oh no.
My friend picked me up from the hotel I was staying at and introduced me to her newly found man-friend and within five minutes of being in each other’s company, we had already discussed stockings. Another ten minutes later and we were in the place where she was staying where she proceeded to rifle through her underwear pile in front of me, looking for a bra to go with her shirt for the graduation, and was showing off her new corsetry purchases. Oh! How I miss my housemates so!
When I was living with my two wonderful housemates, sex was never very far from conversation topics. We were all very open with one another in that respect and often had a giggle about exploits or experiences. The two of them were convinced I had a vast array of torture implements with which to taunt Mister with, never truly satisfied with the prim and proper appearance I keep. They are the only ones to completely get my almost dual-like personality - Real-Life Pandorah and the Inner Minx that only Mister sees. I had never been able to be so honest in my sexuality with my school friends back home and it was very liberating and refreshing to talk truthfully and unashamedly about sex. All three of us were involved with guys and thus the occasional banging or noises would filter through to the next room, but we all basically viewed this as, ‘Great! She’s getting some lovin’ today - good for her!’. All very sex-positive, as the current zeitgeist would have me claim.
Since being away from Wales and those housemates I haven’t had that opportunity to talk about corsets, or discuss how big is too big (my graduation friend’s new guy is 8″+ apparently - OUCH!). That is the kind of friends I like to be around - willing to talk about sex happily without guilt, shame or shyness. I love the old school friends I am around down here in Devon to bits and will go to the end of the world for them, but I can’t talk to them about sex. For one thing, at least one of them is still a virgin - I place no judgement on that fact, but practically, I can’t really talk to her about bondage or fetishes, now, can I?
All is fine and dandy in speaking about sex with your lover - that’s a given for a healthy relationship. But people - girls and boys - need channels to express themselves to friends. Sharing, discussing or merely bragging about experiences is something people need to be able to speak to one another about and it wasn’t until I returned to Wales that I discovered how much I had missed talking in this way to my friend. We were sat in the Wetherspoons, possibly within earshot of others, having a conversation detailing intimate situations with such smiles on our faces. It was the best 24 hours I’ve had for a long time without the company of Mister.
The three years I spent as a student with those two girls was brilliant. It made my University experience a fulfilling and memorable one. Part of the reason for this is because of the discovery of being able to talk about sex - it is part of who I am, my sexual personality. Not having the chance to do so can be stifling, and therefore surely isn’t healthy for the mind. We need this venting, this airing, not keeping things stifled, boxed up and hidden. We need to accept the sexual side to our personalities. It releases us.
Seriously, it’s good to talk!
Curious and Curiouser
And I call myself a ’sex-blogger’. Oh sure, I talk about what we do together, but there’s something missing. Something I’ve neglected to discuss on here.
I’m talking about the A-Word. Lately it’s been preying on my mind more and more.
I’ll come clean. I’m an anal virgin. There. I’ve said it. *Exhales*
Come to think about it, we both are. We’ve talked about it between the two of us, and I think it’s more of an issue for me than it is for Mister. You see, it’s something I’d like to try out and experiment with, but there’s the ‘ickyness’ issue in it for me. The whole, ‘that’s where stuff comes out, not in‘ argument. But I’m still curious. We’ve also skirted around the area when we get jiggy with it (haha!) and unfortunately I’ve not been lost in the moment enough to let things happen in that vein. I get all self-conscious again and run away from his fingers.
I also want to explore this avenue of playing on him. He reacts very favourably when my hands venture behind his balls and stimulate the (perenium? I alway get confused on the names - do help me out!) and there have been times when I’ve so wanted to run my fingers over *that* area to see what happens, but again I got all scared again and timid, and back away.
So, for any of you out there who are experienced in anal-play I would appreciate some advice for a little old anal vigin like me if you have any to share. How to go about it, the best way to introduce it into our frolics etc… I was thinking of looking at devices to use before getting to the fingers or anything of a larger girth attached to my Mister to begin with. But I don’t know.
It’s something I want to try, as I am sure it would feel fabulous. I know he would like to try it. Everything relies on me getting my mind fixed in order to see it in a pleasuable, non-scary, non-wrong way. If you get me.
Gah. Sometimes I suck at being a blogger. I do despair.
ladypandorah
