WTF was I thinking?????

I’ve had the debate many times…
The first time I was 19 and it wasn’t a common practice but my lover at the time swore up and down that I would before too long.

I laughed at him.

I’m really a no-muss no-fuss kind of girl.

Although I’m not reconsidering my stance after (ahem) a decade or two, I’ve finally come across a lover who would prefer a less furry look.

Yes – I’m talking about my bush.

Every lover in the past either hadn’t commented or preferred me al natural. The preferred group felt that stripping off the hair would make me look pre-pubescent and they were into women not girls. (Oh, how that line was music to my ears.)

But this one, this lover, made a snide comment about the fur.

Ouch!

So I did something I haven’t done in years, I shaped it a little… Holy Hell!!! I have been itching and uncomfortable ever since. The blunt ends of my curls rubbing unpleasantly against some of the most sensitive skin I’ve got. A constant brush of sandpaper no matter what I ware or how I sit.

I’ve done bits before and the grow-out is a bitch.

I think “tough shit” is the line I’ll be taking this weekend. Having a lover may inspire me to many things but in the end I don’t do any of it for them – I do it for me.

My body is mine, inside, outside, and in-between – take it or leave it…

Licks!

Mmmm….

Nothing quite like it.

Waking!

Knowing that your lover isn’t there

Yet trapped within is the memory of when he was

Shiver of desire courses through you

Memory!
Feeling his hands on your body
His lips on yours
Rippling desire echoing
He pulls you close
And doesn’t let you go
Holding you
Enclosed within his arms
Feeling the warmth of him
…and the strength

Oh, yes…

Waking to the memory and yearning for more. More time to explore. More time to learn what our bodies can do together.

Progress…

At times I worry that I’ve been alone too long. Adjusting to another person is a process. When we were young we tended to jump in and drown in it thoughtless in our headlong pursuit of passion. Heedless in our search for lust. The joyous bubbly intoxicant that floods your system when you start to fall.

Now we are older, wiser or simply scarred. And my friend keep telling me to take it slow, keep my heart safe. Pace myself. At the same time my body is crying out for attention.

To know and be known.

Licks!

Greetings from Purgatory

Hello all!

I’m not really in purgatory, but it feels that way some times. What I’m really doing is writing, writing, writing… oh, yes, and more writing.

My plan for the summer involves several novellas and a plethora of short stories…

I haven’t been writing here much due to the weight of writing that is weighing me down but also because of an occurrence.

I can be a tough broad when I need to be, and I’ve rarely been frightened. But something happened that scared me.

I’m not used to being scared.

It was one of those dating things… I met someone and it slipped out that I write erotica. Now I like the look of desire in a man’s eyes as much as the next woman. But I prefer the desire be about me and not whatever porn video is playing in their head.

We’d only spoken half a dozen words and suddenly I see that light go on. And what I saw in that light scared me to death. The tipping point where it stops being about sex and becomes about power. I’ve never been forced but my gut said that given any sign of weakness this man would have me stripped and up against the wall whether I was interested or not.

I know there are women out there that enjoy playing with that type of fire – but apparently I’m not one of them.

Yes, I write about sex.

But for me sex is a conduit for intimacy, personally sex for sex’s sake just doesn’t get me off. I exited the situation as best I could and as quickly as I could. A part of me feels like a coward and another is just grateful that I don’t have to see this man ever again.

I’m hoping my giving this to all of you out there will clear my mind and unblock my creativity where this blog is concerned.

Thanks for hearing my confession…

Licks!