Sometimes the curtain of hair parts for long enough that I can see your face, a picture of concentration as you work my cock.
Sometimes your eyes flick up to stare into mine, and in those brief, shared moments we don’t need words to tell each other what we’re thinking or feeling.
Sometimes a title really does say it all.
I used this photo for my (ultimately incomplete) filthy advent calendar back in December, but this Sinful Sunday feels like a good time to share it properly. I’m increasingly fond of combining hard cock, rough denim, and soft, delicate underwear, so expect more images in a similar vein in the weeks and months to come…
I’d put your ass
In a museum
On display
For all to see
Your cunt I’d keep
For private viewing;
All my horny friends
And me
I like watching her face while she sucks my cock. In those focused, unguarded moments, she’s an open book, and I can see each different emotion – each impulse – that flows through her and rises to the surface.
Anticipation. Determination. Concentration.
Playfulness. Arousal. Joy.
“Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly”
Robert F Kennedy
I’m going to make this very simple. All you have to do is stay still. Tense those stomach muscles and control your breathing – that’s it, keep it nice and steady. In, out. In, out.
Good girl.
A couple of weeks ago, someone alerted me to a wonderful event called Naked Boys Reading, which takes place at a hotel in Shoreditch and ticks SO many of my boxes that I’m frankly amazed I wasn’t aware of it already.
I’ll be in the audience when NBR holds its next set of readings on March 22nd, and with any luck I’ll get the chance to jump up on stage at some point in the future. For now though, I’ll have to do all my naked reading in the privacy of our flat, with just the one keen observer for company…
I want to include a couple of guest posts in this year’s February Photo Fest, so I was really pleased when a Twitter friend contacted me late last month with an image she wanted to share. I really like this photo – it’s well-composed, confident, and super hot. Pretty good combination if you ask me…
~
As a curvy woman with really big boobs, I always struggle to find underwear that makes me feel sexy but isn’t impractical or just ridiculously uncomfortable. At the end of last year, I stumbled across some plus-size bralettes in New Look, which proved to be a bit of a revelation – not only did they actually provide decent support, I looked cute as hell in them, and they definitely had the desired effect on the guy I was fucking at the time.
Encouraged by that discovery, I started looking for other lingerie that I could wear to show off my body, rather than merely cover it. This bodysuit from Matalan was a January sale purchase – I love the plunging cleavage, the way it accentuates my curves, and just its sheer, lacy delicacy. It’s a photo in which I both look and feel hot, which is why I wanted to share it with the world.
It occurred to me recently that I haven’t trimmed or shaved my bush for a long time now – longer than I’ve left it to grow untended for many years. I thought I’d try to get a photo of its current state for February Photo Fest, but predictably the full effect was somewhat lost on camera.
However, what did show up very clearly was the vein running down the side of my cock, and its smaller companions on the inside of my wrist. Proof that at this stage, the blood was definitely pumping…
Between Secret Cinema and After Pandora (not to mention our wedding), Liv and I have had plenty of opportunities to dress up and go out over the last couple of years. Some of those have been documented here or on Liv’s blog, others made it onto Twitter, and all of them at some stage involved a scene very much like the one in the photo below.
I find it hard to keep my hands off Liv at the best of times. When she’s dressed up to the nines and looking fuckable as hell, there will always come a point in the evening where I need to cop a feel. Happily she tends to respond in kind…
(This was inspired by a brilliant image that Liv found on Twitter, which we both really like)
Hotel rooms are far less fun without company, and the same is true – in spades – of hotel room mirrors. On Thursday night, I didn’t check in till gone 11pm, and was tired enough that the two mirrors either side of my lonely double bed didn’t feel like too much of a waste. Friday morning, on the other hand? Well, let’s just say that by Friday morning I’d woken up to the various possibilities I was missing out on…
