Backyard jungle

I like our back porch. Being out of sight of the road makes it very useful, as does the plastic roofing above. I can leave items on it for Freecyclers to collect; we keep our recycling bin on there by the back door; and there are gumboots and an ashtray for my brother and a couple of chairs.

There are also steps. There are three of them from the path up to the porch, and the middle one always clonks alarmingly when you step on it. Unlike our front steps, which no one uses, our porch steps are (comparatively) stable – no one’s been flung off them yet!

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From the heart

A word from the heart goes straight to the heart. – Abbé Huvelin

Words hold a lot of meaning for me. I’ve always been strongly impacted by the words people choose to use when talking to me, describing me, or denigrating me. Not for me the easy ability to shrug off phrases I dislike – instead they can pierce me deeply.

But at the same time, compliments and positive feedback settle warmly in my chest, and I need them frequently. I get a lot of happiness from receiving positive feedback (recognition of my actions is something I need from all my relationships, be they lovers, employers, family or friends). And over time there are phrases which particular people have come to use with me often, in the form of a ritualised compliment, or nickname, or recognition.

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Touch me

I need to be touched.

I always liked being touched – a hug, a hand in mine, the press of cheek against cheek. I grew up adoring the closeness and intimacy and warmth of another person close to me.

But right now I crave it. It’s not enough to barely brush fingers, or bump bellies briefly in an embrace. I need full-length clothing-free skin-to-skin touch. Stretched out not-talking pressing from shoulder through torso down to genitals and thighs and knees and feet. I need the reassurance presence of beloved skin connecting with my own.

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I See Red

For a long time I wouldn’t wear red – I have pale skin which reddens very easily, and for many years I believed that having red clothing near my face only exacerbated the blush factor.

Then a few years ago I realised that hot, sweaty, red-in-the-face me was really attractive to some folk, because it’s how I look in the throes of orgasm (what can I say – I’m a little slow sometimes). And that a blushing Dee, or a Dee with red cheeks, can be quite appealing.

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In the shadows

I’ve been hiding in the shadows recently. Some of it’s been here, online – my postings have temporarily dwindled to my weekly HNT, with very little writing. But it’s been in person as well. I’ve slept a lot, done a lot of reading, done not a lot of wanking, and generally spent time at home, the cats and me.

*click*

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Rope of Love

When they tied me in ropes of slender steel; mercilessly cupping my hands in an airtight embrace,

I felt submerged by disparaging despair in the beginning; although after a while

I used my ingenuity and managed to wriggle out completely free from my bondage.

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Purple Sun

Once again it’s time to share one of my parasols with you all (I intend to do this every month for the rest of the year, you know). While it is the fourth to be featured, this alluring purple and blue parasol is the first I ever bought – you could say it’s what started my desire to collect them! Be sure to click on both images for some extra-special angles.

One of the really special things about this parasol is that the fabric is sturdy and keeps the sun off me – but also ever-so-slightly see-through. I really like the diaphanous effect it has.

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