Falling Water

When Apollo and I were in the Hokianga, we spent a lot of our time doing as little as possible (and fucking). But we did spend one day exploring the region – and in the afternoon we hunted down this track, which we’d seen on the map and then travelled quite a lot of metal road to get to:

I’m not a huge fan of long tramps, but the walk to the waterfall looked lovely (in the click-through? it’s the extremely short, barely noticeable, dotted red line). It was a shit of a hike, up steep steps and slippery paths, to get there. Thankfully, the waterfall was totally worth it!

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Head Down, Arse Up

One of the positions that m’Lady most loves to see me in is one where I have my head down and my arse up. It’s a position that arouses em greatly (as it does me) because not only am I displaying my cheeks, but I also have cunt and arsehole easily accessible.

While I really like that position, aside from it eventually getting hard on the knees, I couldn’t quite grok the appeal of looking at me as I was in it. That is, until I asked my owner to take some pictures for me, so I could see what ey see.

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The Great Outdoors

I love having sex – I think we all know that by now! And I’m a bit of an exhibitionist, too. Add those together, and outdoor sex is one of those things I really enjoy, even if I don’t do it often. One of those things about outdoor sex, though, is that the potential for amazingness – and disaster – is often increased…

Let’s get the (hilarious in retrospect) disasters out of the way first, shall we? It turns out golf courses use sprinklers – and they turn on about dusk, drenching the hapless couple getting it on nearby. Who knew? Then there’s bamboo. The otherwise excellently concealed piece of parkland where I chose to fling my virginity away – yes, really – had small shoots growing. Right where the small of my back was. Didn’t matter how I repositioned myself, it always ended up just there. It was a toss-up what was less fun, that day. And then there was the day-trip to Picton where rampant horniness got the better of us, and so we put a towel down in the bush by the ferry terminal and went for it. Apparently other people had the same idea, and managed to – literally – stumble across us. Oops!

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Sign Me Up

I spent a long time looking for the right street sign to be photographed with for the Scavenger Hunt, and I thought I had it: just one suburb away from our house is a road liberally sprinkled with signs stating “Share with Care” (referring to bicycles and cars sharing together). Which didn’t put me in mind of vehicular road sharing! Still, with the road being so busy, I was having difficulty figuring out how to get the shot.

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Taking the Train to Williamstown

For the first two weeks of June I was in Melbourne, spending quality – mostly naked – time with m’Lady (aka Tethys). But we weren’t indoors for the entire time: we decided a few days in that we’d have an adventure trip out to the suburb of Williamstown, a place I’d never been to before. Williamstown was Melbourne’s first port, and looked out across to the CBD. I couldn’t wait to see it!

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Hokianga View

When Apollo and I went up to the Hokianga for a holiday a few months back, we woke up on our first full day there to this glorious view:

I rather get the impression Apollo was looking at the view inside while I was looking out across the harbour, though!

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Relaxing in the Hokianga Sunshine

Seems like I am so slow to get around to writing about my amazing experiences, these days! Earlier this year Apollo and I took a much-needed break and travelled up to the Hokianga, which was an area of New Zealand neither of us had been to before. We stayed at a friend’s holiday home for 5 glorious days, with absolutely nothing planned except relaxation time.

Relax we did! We slept in, fucked (on the very very creaky bed), read a whole bunch, fucked in the sunshine, played Scrabble, watched out-of-date TV shows, and fucked some more. Oh, and spent one day exploring the Hokianga area, too, but the photos from that exploration are for another post.

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Tomorrow

Tomorrow is the day that I’ve been waiting for: it’s the day where I fly back over to Melbourne.

Tomorrow I will be back with m’Lady, my owner, for two whole weeks.

Tomorrow I will be on an aeroplane for four hours, wearing my knee-high boots, a short dress and no underwear. My tag will be shiny in my ear. My face will be bright with smiling anticipation. My aroma of arousal may possibly be noticeable, if you’re close enough.

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Melbourne Airport Welcome

This is what delighted, reconnected with m’Lady, well-fucked property looks like:

I’d been in Melbourne proper all of perhaps thirty minutes at this point. Had come through customs, found m’Lady, sat down and had a lot of kissing and more kissing and oh the touching and mmm, kissing. (Kissing with m’Lady is simply delicious!) 

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Housework in the House

This is not something I thought would be assumed. And it was assumed by one of the last people I assumed (heh) would ever assume it. Which just goes to show.

I’ve been reading Mistress Matisse‘s writings since long before I started blogging – probably by a couple of years – so what she’s had to say has had an influence on me for nigh on a decade now. Whether it’s her blogging, articles in The Stranger, or tweets, I appreciate her wit, insight and attitude.

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