Boobday: ordinary

Today Lucas sent me a handful of photos from the shoot we did, and there are some good shots but technical difficulties means that lots of the shots came out super grainy. Some should be OK for posting online at least. I think I’ll wait until I see the lot before I post anything.

I’m kicking myself for forgetting to take a mile high photo on the trip home. You’re going to have to wait for a couple of months now. I think my next mile-high opportunity will be when I visit Gawan and go to Eroticon in the spring.

But we are still in selfie territory today. I’m wearing an ordinary bra and my usual at-home yoga pants, which double as pyjamas on cold nights.

I’m not feeling sexy, just ordinary. No special poses, no special clothes, props or locations. A day in the life.


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Boobday: Linear A

I’m looking forward to my photo shoot trip, which is next weekend, woo! Nothing much to report on that front, except that Lucas just found out that he’ll have to work on one of the days he’d hoped to have off. That was the day we were planning to do some shopping for fetish wear, but with any I’ll still be able to hit a couple of shops, either on my own or together on one of our shoot days.

I’ve arranged to see Mr. PS for dinner while I’m in town. I’ve got some extra time now, so maybe I’ll be able to spend that with him. I’m confident that he has no ulterior motives towards me, but I’d say there’s a fair chance we’ll cuddle on his couch.

I’m going to have to start packing soon. I’m only going for a few days, and under normal circumstances my clothes would fit in a carry-on bag. I tend to be practical, but not quite minimalist. Not yet. If left to my own devices I can easily wear the same pair of pants (that’s trousers for the Brits) for 5 days in a row, but I find it difficult to leave home and commit to wearing the same pants for that length of time. And I’m going to be bringing half of my wardrobe to play dress-up: dresses, heels, boots, lingerie. All the frippery that I would ordinarily leave behind. So my usual strategy of packing everything the day before won’t work so well because my usual packing skillz don’t apply. I have this mental image of little me rolling this big bag along in full princess mode, wearing a tight dress that shows a lot of thigh and my knee-high gladiator “sandals” with the 4″ heel. Yeah, not so much.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve been writing less over the last few months. I’ve been busier with work and have had less time to write, and less writing seems to mean fewer ideas for writing, which initiates a vicious circle of less writing, etc. But I might be turning the corner, inspiration-wise at least: I have a play party to write up, as well as most of my visit with Gawan, which was months ago, and my thoughts about where I’m at currently are starting to ripen. I’ve also started posting a bit of serialized fiction, and I’m not ready to drop that story yet. Now the trick is not to get overwhelmed with it all and freeze up.

The other day I booked the flights for a trip to London in early spring. I’m going to Eroticon! I’m looking forward to meeting some of the bloggers who I’ve become acquainted with online and hopefully turn some of those acquaintances into friends. I’m also holidaying with Gawan on this trip, and I have to admit that he’s the bigger draw. Good thing I don’t have to choose 🙂

Aaaand, Molly announced the Top 100 Sex Bloggers 2016 today. I’m very chuffed to have made the list again this year! Why not check out the list and find some good new blogs?

After the play party.

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Boobday: linear

I’m posting a sexier photo for Boobday this week as compared to last week. Am I feeling sexier? Not appreciably. I’m still feeling inward-looking, but a little less so than last week.

This image doesn’t objectify me. It can’t. I’m the model, stylist, photographer, editor, and publisher. All decisions have been made by me: it’s a demonstration of my agency, even if you can’t see my face.

It is, I think, a sexy image. I felt sexy when I took the photo, and I wouldn’t have taken the photo if I wasn’t enjoying myself. Not all photos of an individual are equally sexy even though it’s the same person throughout. The most significant variables are the pose and clothing. There isn’t much to my pose, so the sexiness is mostly from what I’m wearing.

I bought this bodysuit mostly for me. When I first saw it (in the possession of someone who had recently bought one for herself), I wanted it immediately. That doesn’t usually happen. I’m not really one for collecting clothes. I went to some lengths to get it, and then bought other items from the same line because I liked them that much. (Repeating patterns, like the parallel lines here, tickle my brain in a good way.)

Like any photo I post here, I hope you enjoy it. But the more important thing is that I enjoy it. And I do.


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Boobday: crescent

For some time I had felt drawn to reveal my body. Confronting it, ceasing to use clothing as a barrier to conceal my appearance, deflect my own gaze. I’m content in my body. It just is. I just am.

I now feel drawn to reveal less: magnetic north has shifted.

Hy’s post today and her comments on how women are routinely sexualized got me thinking about clothes. There is a persistent belief that women should be and are dressing to attract men. Women who are perceived as rejecting this norm are called fat, ugly, dyke, or man-repelling. This belief, plus the belief that men can’t control themselves, results in women who get raped being accused of attracting men too effectively: “What was she wearing?”

Here’s a thought experiment: imagine that all the women you see (yes, even the hot ones) have dressed themselves without reference to what men might think of their outfits. Imagine that they all have a different collection of priorities, like what makes them feel good from the inside, what’s comfortable, what’s clean, what’s new, what won’t get in their way during the commute or at work, what color grabs them today, what’s warm enough, what’s cool enough.

Imagine that how women dress isn’t about you and that your opinion of them doesn’t matter.


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Boobday: self-care

I feel deeply. It’s a mere membrane between me and the world, thin and porous. Shutting off feeling is impossible, and even if it could be done, I wouldn’t. If I did, I wouldn’t be me. The pain and anguish of others is so loud that I tend to forget where lies the boundary between “mine” and “not mine”.

So I close the door for a while.

I’m in the middle of my period today. The pain lodged deep in my gut – at turns aching, or throbbing, or twinging, or fading into a background hum – that’s mine. Neither good nor bad, it just is.


It’s a glorious day today, and unseasonably warm. The sort of day that invites you outside, to feel the breeze on your skin, to squint into the sun, to move and stretch and work, to be aware of being alive, as though the plottings of humans were irrelevant to the rising and setting of the sun and the moon, to the flowing of the rivers and the growing of the trees.

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Boobday: quiet

It’s been quiet around here lately. I haven’t been writing or taking photos. Haven’t wanted to.

I’ve been working harder which means less time spent writing, and less writing means fewer ideas. And things have cooled off in the bedroom, so there’s simply less to write about – though I do have a few adventures with Gawan that I have’t written up yet.

As for the photos, I’m simply not in much of a sharing mood and I’m not inclined to be bare. And if I do things that seem OK I guess but if I thought about them, I’d find that I didn’t actually want to do them after all, but I go ahead because I think I should because it would please someone else, well, I’ve just enunciated the difficulty I have with valuing my own consent.

I’m feeling even more inward-looking than usual, which for me sounds a lot like self-care. Maybe it’s just the world getting me down.

That lens flare is analog.

There will be an image for Sinful Sunday – I know roughly what it will be and I’m keen to post it, though I haven’t shot it yet. The theme is “no words” (i.e. just the image itself), which suits me fine.

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