Take the Chance

There was once a chance

that I didn’t take:

Opportunity lost,

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Macro Tease

Sometimes – not often, but sometimes – my sadistic side comes out. For me, that means a little bit of using my nails and teeth, of inflicting pain. But more often, it means tantalising and teasing, building the anticipation and doing what pleases me. And when Hylas is wrapped up and tied down, blind and unable to move as I slowly and deliberately do what the hell I like? That really gets me off!

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Hidden Grotto

One slightly drizzly Sunday afternoon, Hylas and I went a-hunting Scavenger locations. As we like to do, of a weekend. We went out with a few places in mind – but neither of us expected or planned this one (and, indeed, it wasn’t even on the list yet – but it will be now!). But it’s gorgeous, it’s a multiplicity of things, and it’s hidden in plain sight – I fell in love with it instantly!

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Nervewracking Scavenge

I really enjoy finding and knocking off Scavenger Hunt locations – I keep a long list on my phone of various ones I hope to do, and I always have my camera with me in my bag. (It helps that I’m happy to take photos of myself by myself, although I have a variety of friends and lovers who enjoy being partners in crime!) And while I frequently get comments on posts about how brave I must have been to get this spot or that location, it’s rare that I find it particularly scary or difficult; usually it’s about timing and determination.

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Auctioned

The story below was written by m’Lady Tethys as a birthday gift for me – I was thrilled to wake up and find it waiting for me in my inbox, along with an audio clip where ey read it aloud to me (as you can probably imagine, I wanked my brains out listening to it). It is with permission and with great pleasure that I share the words with you now, after keeping it to myself for a month.

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Octo-hedonism

I’ve been blogging as Curvaceous Dee for eight years today – the time has simply flown by, and been a whole lot of fun in the process! But what do you do to celebrate eight years? When I started pondering this a few months back I asked positively everybody – friends, lovers, munch acquaintances – for their thoughts. Coming up with an idea was far harder than I expected (good thing I started early).

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Spunk on Me

When I write a tweet like this:

 

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Cow Number 1 on Lambda Farm

Once there was a young red heifer, wandering across the fields. She had lost her herd: there was no farm she called home, nor any farmer’s whistle she recognised as familiar.

The cow was unaware that the sensation she felt deep below her stomachs, day after day, was loneliness – she had been weaned long since, and so all she had to do each day was amble and munch upon pasture grass (and wildflowers, when she came across them) for the long slow turning of the earth.

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Cleaning Day

Groaning under the thorough attention of

the maid slut, attentive to their needs:

getting deep into the crevices with

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Bites All Over

I love being bitten. By lovers, by friends, and by friends who are lovers. I love the bite. I love/hate the pain (and grin and grit through it) and giggle with the endorphins. I spend days smiling at the bruises that result.

Right now I have biting bruises on me from three different people. One of the first things I’ve learned to ask of new partners is how they feel about biting (and being bitten, too). And I am a very happy Dee when I find that they’re into it!

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