February 2008


We are going to be together this weekend after uncountable days apart. (I could literally count them, but I would rather hustle my ass up to see him.)

Cadillac Ladies Love to . . .The drive to where he lives is long. I now have my own rickety car and can do it with some comfort and regularity. The upside of this is that I control my schedule, I leave when I want to, and I have more fun on the road than when I take public transportation.

The downside is that he doesn’t have to come pick me up at an airport, bus, or train station.

I love the feeling of anticipation before I’m going to see him out in public–doing my makeup, fluffing my hair, ducking into the nearest bathroom to remove those forbidden panties. And it’s always a thrill to see him in public when we’re dying to fuck . . . makes things more interesting, natch.

Lately, when I arrive at his house, there is a long leadtime before anyone inside stirs. That’s okay, good even–it makes me feel like I’m home and it’s not a huge deal that I’ve arrived. It’s less fuss and bother . . . I can settle in without there being some big production. And it’s rarely long before he has me on my knees, if only for a few moments, just as a kind of “Hey, I’m on top and you’re the designated cocksucker here,” greeting (I usually get a kiss too–or at least a tug on my nipple. 😉 )

But I do miss driving back from stations and airports with him. I miss giving blowjobs in cars. You know you are a sub, don’t you, when all you can think about is whether you will get lucky enough to be allowed to give your boyfriend a blowjob in the car the next time you see him???

Yeah. I think that means you are a sub. Anyway, I think I am, and right now I am very much looking forward to being put in my place.

Enjoy the weekend . . . I will.

A Cadillac advertisement from 1963.

Oral Fixations

 

Note to self: do not forget Babeland’s tips for using vibes during oral sex. Maybe the five we have (plus all those vibrating cock rings) are more useful than I thought.

 

 

PS: Further note to self: don’t forget any oral sex tips, ever.

 

 

Image from Unsinn Photography

The painting on the banner of this blog is part of one by Jean-Leon Gerome, a French Academic painter whose success was at its height just prior to the advent of the Impressionists.

His work is scattered all over “Seraglio Letters” for a reason. Gerome painted harems–lots of them. (Seraglio, in case you were wondering, is not what my lover likes to be called–it’s Italian for “harem.”) He painted naked women, glowing, pale and dark, in all sorts of marble baths and cloistered chambers.

Moorish Bath

He was only one of the painters of his day to indulge in “orientalist” fantasies–imagining sex elsewhere, in foreign climes, with slaves and dancing girls, instead of at home, in proper bourgeois Paris. Odalisques are orientalist art–odalisque being a westernized version of a Turkish word for chambermaid.

Where the Impressionists–Manet, Degas, Toulouse-Lautrec, –portrayed the prostitutes of Paris, Gerome painted Turkish and Egyptian women at market, for sale, at the baths . . . and this, along with his disapproval of the Impressionists, made his work a target for modern critics.

Still, he has his admirers. (F’rinstance Ridley Scott finds him inspiring–which counts for something.)  I would not say that I’m a fan, exactly; but when my mind–and possibly yours?–turns to fantasies of auction blocks . . .

The Slave Market

. . . . . and gilded cages . . .

harem-terrace-of-seraglio.jpg

. . . Gerome’s are the settings I see. Today, after all, we might call the below a little girl-on-girl interracial BDSM action . . . or, if more PC, perhaps bisexual power-exchange in a multicultural society. Either way, the purpose is without question to titillate.

How’s it working for you?

Moorish Bath


Just touched down at the airport in my city, I heard love songs galore over the loudspeakers–“Unchained Melody”, “I Will Always Love You”, and the like. Why do they play the most dramatic and impassioned declarations of love imaginable at places where people are about to leave, or have just left, people they they are close to?

Hearing “Unchained Melody” made me happy, though. I’m seeing my lover soon, so I will be chained. Now there’s a cheerful airport thought.

Repair in Underground Club

He always manages to fix what ails me, somehow . . . do the necessary repair work. He’s handy that way–and others.

Repair in Underground Club by Igor Amelkovich

I’ve got an early flight . . . still not packed. Typical me.

I used to love travel . . . just like to be in motion for its own sake. Now–well, I would rather stay curled up in one place.

But though this trip is not titillating, I’m excited, I guess. They haven’t managed to take all the fun out of air travel . . . quite.

hard-to-get.jpg

(I have the unsettling feeling he either would or has said that I am easy to get . . . I keep telling him that’s only him.)

Anyhow, I’ll be back in a few days. Meanwhile, enjoy the chocolate hangovers.

Here’s to edgy, perverse, intertwined, twistedly fantastical hearts.

sacredheart.jpg

I love you.

Illustration by Tom Bagshaw, via Sex in Art.

I may well be a sex blog addict.

I realized this after I spent my usual hour or so trawling through my favorites yesterday morning before (eventually) heading to work. A decade ago I would have spent that hour running or reading about international politics, but times change.

A decade ago, of course, I was not “gettin’ it regular”, as he puts it–and at the moment I am not quite getting it regular either, both because we haven’t seen each other in what feels like too long and because I seem to have lost my solo-sex mojo. (Yes, I’m trying to say I haven’t jerked off in awhile. I can’t believe I just typed that. I can’t believe I’m leaving it. But I figure I have to put something sexual in here . . . .)

So in addition to helping me think through this thing called BDSM, blogs at the moment are my erotic release. Must be, because after the hour was up and I realized my fleece pajamas were soaked through.

wetscreen.jpg

Part of the series “Film Stories,” from JYLSC Photography, via Fluffy Lychees

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