hagakure

Hagakure is the name of an 18th-century book about bushido (samurai philosophy) but it literally means “hidden by leaves” or “hidden leaves”.

Both images are from my trip to Japan in Nov 2018.

This image was created for the Sinful Sunday theme for March (“double exposure”) at which time, unusually, I came up with more than one image that I liked. You can see my first choice here.

Sinful Sunday: It’s all about the image.

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sumer is icumen in

Svmer is icumen in
Lhude sing cuccu
Groweþ sed
and bloweþ med
and springþ þe wde nu
Sing cuccu

Awe bleteþ after lomb
lhouþ after calue cu
Bulluc sterteþ
bucke uerteþ
murie sing cuccu

Cuccu cuccu
Wel singes þu cuccu
ne swik þu nauer nu

(a joyful Middle English song about the return of spring/summer)

Shortly after Eroticon last year, Molly and I met up to do a little outdoor shoot, and I stripped down in the April sunshine while Jaime and Cara guarded the entrance to this public but generally overlooked little historic site.

You wouldn’t necessarily know it from the view presented here, but this was a glorious (if nipply) spring day.

nude figure in front of a late medieval brick wall
Photo by Molly Moore

I shared a preview image from this shoot here.

Sinful Sunday: It’s all about the image.

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e[lust] #117

Photo courtesy of Master’s Eye

Welcome to Elust 117

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #118? Start with the rules, come back May 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

 

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

A dominant presence

He Gripped Her Hand and Centered Her

Being alone together.

 

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

What the fig?

Mind and body

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

O! or, errr… NO!: Orgasm Control in an F/m Dynamic

 

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Fantasies Never Let You Down
My First Love
New Fun with Old Friends
Sometimes coming joint second
emotional disconnection, sex and loneliness
People Don’t Talk about This Sh!t

Erotic Fiction

Waking the Fallen
Daisy
opera seria
Catch the Catcher
Club Dress Extended
Dreams … (the Second : Arabian Nights)
The orgasmic arch

Erotic Non-Fiction

The Five Senses of Sex
A public beating
Rope Dreams

Poetry

-01.04.19_00:22-

Thoughts & Advice on Kink & Fetish

Primal Regression and Submission
14 Qualities of a “Good” Dominant
Balance in F/m voices

Events

Do I want you to hold my hand?

Body Talk and Sexual Health

Sex in Class
That’s My Kink – All Hail The Nipple Clit

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Why I’m not smiling for IWD

 

 

Elust 88

aerodrome 3

The trip from our hotel to the airport started before I would ordinarily be awake, and comprised 30 minutes of twists and turns through busy city. Jaime and his suitcase accompanied me in the airport shuttle even though he needed to go in the opposite direction to where his car was parked so he could drive himself back to his mountains and home.

From the shuttle drop-off point to the terminal comprised another 10 minutes of pedestrian twists and turns through what felt like a parking garage but mostly without cars in it. The route was painted on the ground but was also helpfully signposted with 8 or 10 friendly staff, one at each turning to guide us through the labyrinth. The last three carried baskets and handed out chocolate eggs, in honour of Easter, as well as little bottles of water. Our theory was that this was done to counteract the endless fog of low-grade evil engendered by a building that forgot to account for the fact that people needed to move through it.

I had some time to spare so we had a bit of a sit, I got myself organised, and then Jaime sent me off with a few meaty swats to my bottom. It’s hard to leave, but the tension keeping me there is balanced by the tension pulling me home and back to Wolf.

And, some 20 or so hours later, Wolf was waiting for me at our little airport in his usual spot, and silently gathered me up in his arms in the usual way, smelling my hair.

So I’m home now, and mostly recovered from the ultra-long-haul flight, a handful of time zones worth of jetlag, and (probably) fighting off a 20-hour barrage of viruses in various airports and planes. The length of the days is not so different from where I was, nor the temperature, and I’ve only had one flicker of disorientation from the sun being on the “wrong” side of my zenith. The next time I go to visit Jaime, perhaps I’ll be able to find north by feel rather than calculation.

Wolf is away again for now, and I’m alone in the house until he returns, but this is the last time for a few months at least.

Here I am in the – non-private – washroom of an airport lounge, not quite a year ago. Low traffic, but still required a little more boldness than my usual material.

More photos from this trip (i.e. last year’s, not the one I just got back from) here and here.

Boobday is a body-positive meme where women share images of their bodies in order to show that there is beauty in all of us. With confidence comes power and with power comes confidence.

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mile high 34

My visit with Jaime is drawing to a close, and I’ve only got one more full day with him. Most of our time together has been spent, very relaxed, at his place and today’s day out in the city — featuring squealing kids, more people than I usually see in a year (it put me in mind of Shibuya at one point), and inescapable noise of some kind all day, indoors and out — reminds me of some of the reasons why I don’t live in a big city. I went into Muji and didn’t buy anything because it was a zoo and the line was enormous — that’s how peopled out I was. By the end of it, we both wanted to put boxes over our heads.

But then, after dinner at a quiet little family-run Thai restaurant, there was a short fireworks show just across the way. Although our view was partly obscured by buildings, we could still see it well from our room instead of having to wade through another mass of humanity, which frankly was beyond us in that moment anyway.

Different plane than last week’s photo, but taken the same day on (I think) the same type of aircraft.

Compare last week’s photo here.

Boobday is a body-positive meme where women share images of their bodies in order to show that there is beauty in all of us. With confidence comes power and with power comes confidence.

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emotional disconnection, sex and loneliness

Extreme fatigue makes me very thin-skinned. I become even more indecisive and I second-guess myself terribly. I revert to my deep programming, which makes me profoundly critical of everything and everyone (including myself), and I tend to become unable to see anything positive, whether that’s noticing beauty around me or remembering anything I’ve learned on my journey into sex positivity. I don’t much like myself while this is going on, but at least when this happened the other day due to the rigours of travel I was still aware that once I recovered I’d probably feel better emotionally. And I that’s what happened. Luckily, Jaime has the patience of a saint.

Despite the epiphany I had about sexual shame almost 5 years ago now, and the subsequent realisation that I also have difficulty with trust, I find I’m still struggling with a lot of the same sexual issues that I did before the epiphany.

Confession time: I’ve not had partnered sex in a year, and not because of lack of opportunity. Although things heated up for a while after the shame epiphany, I haven’t been able to sustain that. My libido is low, I don’t get turned on, and my only strategy to address this issue is to continue to read any book I come across that seems relevant. I know that it’s possible to enjoy and want and seek sex but I haven’t figured out how to make that happen for me.

This is, to put it mildly, deeply frustrating. As a child I was taught to be self-critical. I’ve been frustrated about my sexuality not being what I wanted (or what thought it should be, which is different) for pretty much my entire adult life, and it’s very easy for me to interpret this as meaning that there’s something wrong with me, which makes me frustrated with myself.

I haven’t known how to deal with that so I’ve either simply said the no that I felt (a more recent approach), or pushed myself to do the thing (my default). But I see now that, for my issues, pushing myself doesn’t work. In fact, I think it actively causes me harm. It’s comparable to the way that men are typically taught to keep pushing things forward (through a woman’s “I don’t really want this but I can live with it”) until they hear a no, but in my case both Wolf and Jaime are keen to give me pleasure (whatever that actually looks like for me) and I’m putting all the pressure on myself. If I don’t respect my own no, I’m vitiating my own consent. In other words, I am to some extent victimising myself — a sobering thought.

A few months ago I listened to a podcast about procrastination as a writing issue and one point stuck with me: shitting on yourself for perceived problematic behaviour not only doesn’t stop the behaviour, it can actually reinforce the very habit you’re trying to change. This is the harm of perfectionism. So to change the habit I need to be kind and generous to myself, which I find challenging. I also need to spend time figuring out what I like and what I want because, honestly, I don’t really know. (I do have a strategy for this but I haven’t done much work on it yet.)

The other day with Jaime I discovered a new factor that I’d never been aware of before. During a spanking he checked in with me from time to time to ask how I was feeling and what I was experiencing emotionally. He was asking for information but this was also a cue to be mindful of my emotions, which I found really useful. I told him I was experiencing the spanking physically but I wasn’t aware of any emotions that went with any of what he was doing and I felt completely disconnected from his feeling of being loving toward me, taking care of me, being invested in my pleasure, or anything else of that nature.

The next day, he was giving me oral, and when I checked in with myself regarding my emotions I found that I was experiencing it in an exclusively physical way as well. On top of that, I also felt the profound vulnerability that I feel with sex. Jaime takes good care of me and I know he’s seriously invested in pleasing me but I couldn’t perceive it. I just felt disconnected and lonely.

Why? My first belief about sex was that it’s a man taking something from a woman, and despite everything I’ve learned or taught myself, remnants of this view are still entrenched deep in my psyche. The mind has a tendency to use all evidence to confirm its deeply held beliefs (aka self-image or self-schema), and if any evidence can only be understood as contradicting that paradigm, it’s typically ignored.

In addition to this incorrect paradigm, I also have some sub-optimal general emotional wiring: my parents didn’t connect with me in a healthy and loving emotional way as I was growing up, and I’ve recently realised that I’ve always felt emotionally orphaned and fundamentally lonely. (If that rings any bells for you, you might be interested to read Jonice Webb, Running on Empty: Overcome Your Childhood Emotional Neglect.) In the context of sex, it feels as though I lack the emotional sensors to detect warmth and caring and love.

As often happens for me, I wasn’t really aware of the intensity of my feelings during the encounter until I started thinking about them consciously, and in this case discussing them with Jaime (and weeping throughout — this shit is fucking difficult). I let him know about the isolation I was feeling and asked him to try to create an emotional connection with me verbally.

And you know, it actually seemed to work. Hearing explicitly that I am loved made me feel it in a way that physical affection has never been able to successfully communicate because of those generally incorrect messages about what being physical and sexual with another person actually means. And I enjoyed myself more, which from a rational perspective is unsurprising, but to actually feel it as an experience felt a little bit like magic.

The vulnerable feeling generated by that first sexual encounter felt similar to the thin-skinned feeling from fatigue in the way it brought my deep programming to the surface. But what if it doesn’t just bring up the ugly? What if the whole package of programming is summoned up to the surface and can be communicated with directly instead of through the layers of learning and rationality that usually muffle it? If so, this could represent a shortcut in the process from knowing something intellectually to actually feeling it. Our initial experiment suggests that this might be true.

Sex for me is still fraught and likely will continue to be for some time. The epiphany about sexual shame and the realisation that I have difficulty trusting are both essential elements but the fact that I’m still having the same kind of difficulties as before proves that they aren’t the whole story. I feel like I’ve just stumbled upon another key and I’m feeling optimistic again, for the first time in a long time.

mile high 33

I’ve been here with Jaime for most of a week now. The travel, as always, was grueling, but I suppose the upshot of not being able to get any real rest on the (very, very long) flight is that although I’m exhausted by the end of it, I don’t really get jetlag. My body will take any amount of rest at any time of the day.

I’ve done some shopping and so far I’ve bought Mongolian felt slippers, a Hmong coat, and a little Afghan carpet. No souvenirs native to this country so far. Oh well.

I’ve also had two spankings, and a profound realisation about some of my sexual difficulties which led, predictably, to a torrent of tears. More on that later.

This was taken while travelling with my mother. I inherited extreme self-consciousness from her and I find myself reverting to that to some extent while in her company. I’m pleased to report that I’m now comfortable enough with my body to pull a stunt like this even when she’s around. I’ve made real progress!

Boobday is a body-positive meme where women share images of their bodies in order to show that there is beauty in all of us. With confidence comes power and with power comes confidence.

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