Category: Other photos

I’m typing this with a raging hangover after my hockey club’s annual dinner/dance, so I’m going to keep it brief! This month’s two anonymous submissions are very different in tone, but share a common theme of empowerment: both see the body as something to be enjoyed, and each – in her own way – is taking charge of how they do that with these photo posts.

In order to get better spacing between Anonymous Sinful Sunday posts (and because I had a series of photos lined up to use last week), this ‘February’ edition is perhaps a bit misleadingly named. Many thanks to the two people who submitted photos for being patient about that; the work they supplied was definitely worth waiting for!

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I couldn’t resist the “senses” prompt for March. Soft or fuzzy fabric warms me up for a time of action and soothes me afterwards like nothing else.

Standing and Waiting

I rarely stand naked for anyone. Taking clothes off usually happens quickly as part of moving on to other activities. But, as a natural exhibitionist, I took this photo, dropping the robe away from my body and leaving the silk belt tied so that I could feel what it is like to invite appraisal. I hope you enjoy it.

At six o’clock on Friday morning, I flew to Marrakech for the weekend. The early flight necessitated either catching a bus from Central London in the middle of the night, or holing up for a few hours in the airport Radisson; despite the additional expense, I was always going to choose the latter.

Is that mainly because I place a disproportionately high value on a decent night’s sleep? Perhaps…but alongside any practical considerations sat one compelling, indisputable fact: airport hotels are sexy.

Actually, airports are sexy full-stop. Maybe not always – at their worst, they can be dull, dreary, depressing, or a mixture of the three – but pass through one on the right day, in the right mood, for the right reason, and they positively hum with the promise of desire soon to be fulfilled.

The hotels attached to them are even more of a tease. Their bars host a heady mix of bored business travellers, giddy holidaymakers, and those left in limbo by cancelled flights or lengthy layovers. Most airports sit miles away from the cities they serve; the hotel guests constitute a captive audience, penned in and forced to find their own entertainment. Looking down on the main bar from my room at the Stansted Radisson, I watched strangers strike up conversation; saw work colleagues gradually shift laptops to one side and huddle closer over their drinks, bathed in pools of soft yellow light.

They’re not for everyone, but to me there’s something romantic about that kind of casual, transient hook-up. Meeting someone as you’re passing through, then flying off in different directions the next morning; your lives briefly illuminated by the few hours you spend together behind a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign and thick, soundproof curtains.

Maybe I’ve just watched Up In The Air too many times.

I didn’t venture down to the bar on Thursday night. Instead I lounged naked in my room with a bottle of wine and a good book. I put aside all cares and worries, and gave myself over to gleeful anticipation of the following morning’s flight; of a first trip to Africa; of the thrill of the new.

Airport hotels are sexy. Sometimes you don’t even need another person to help make them feel that way.

(Many thanks to the super-talented Oleander Plume for one again turning my mediocre attempts at photography into something approaching art!)

The first Anonymous Sinful Sunday of 2015 maintains the same high standards established over the second half of last year. All three photos – as well as the words that accompany them – offer something compelling; they’re sexy, honest, and playful, and as a result, very much within the Sinful Sunday tradition. I hope you enjoy looking at them as much as the three contributors clearly enjoyed taking them.

Winter in a Summer City

I spent the new year in Berlin. Us Brits like to create storms in teacups when it comes to the weather and three or four people had told me, with that slight tone of panic we so often use to talk about the weather, that Berlin was *definitely* a summer city. Why didn’t I wait a few months? Apparently I was foolish to be visiting when it would be so bitterly cold. I remembered a post from Exhibit A that mentioned naked sunbathing in Tiergarten and wondered fleetingly if the naysayers might be right. Then an idea was born…

There’s a no photography rule in Germany’s nude areas but unsurprisingly there weren’t too many naked people relaxing in Tiergarten’s retreating snow as the sun cast its weak light on the first day of 2015, so I broke the rules. The adrenalin rush and sharp bite of cold did wonders for my hangover!

Dressing Table

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The tights are supposed to show Mickey and Minnie kissing each other but I like to view it as Mickey and Minnie kissing my ankles. I would love a MFF threesome. I guess Mickey & Minnie kissing my ankles is as close as I’ve ever got.

I’ve really enjoyed hosting the anonymous Sinful Sunday photos over the last six months. Since launching the concept back in June, 13 sexy, challenging and beautiful images – from seven different women – have featured on this site (though one was later removed at the request of the person who submitted it). There’s been a mix of regular contributors and people who treated it as a thrilling one-off: an opportunity to do something they’d never done before and can’t imagine ever doing it again.

It didn’t entirely surprise me that all of the early submissions came from women. By and large, men have a much easier time of it on the internet, and it’s certainly a safer space for any guy wanting to show off his body. Few of us will be slut-shamed for posting photos of our dicks; nor does sharing explicit images tend to expose us to an unwanted slew of sexual advances, made on the assumption that because we get naked online, we ‘must be up for it’.

Still, I was starting to wonder whether I’d ever have a photo from a man to put up here – and then December happened. It might have taken six months, but on this final Sinful Sunday of 2014, it gives me great pleasure to present…

Going, Going, Gone

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There will be more Sinful Sunday from me in 2015, and hopefully more Anonymous posts as well!

I live above a shop that sells body lotions, hand creams and massage oils. It’s safe, middle-class and wholesome: ‘Of warm and savoury character’, reads one of the advertising stickers on the window.

The product on display in my window is less wholesome; less safe. Like anything though, it’s on sale.

For the right price.

(If you want to use this photo for my Sinful Stories competition, please be my guest!)

I write in all sorts of places. I write on public transport, hunched over my laptop or furiously tapping away at my phone. I write in greasy cafes, and gastro pubs, and gourmet restaurants. I write in serious work meetings, when I’m meant to be taking notes, because I get a thrill out of doing things that I know I shouldn’t.

Most of all though, I write at home. When no-one else is here, I sit at the kitchen table – reassuringly solid and homely – with a glass of wine rarely more than 18 inches from my laptop. When my flatmate is around, I squirrel myself away in my room, and spread out on the bed. I listen to the street noise, and the pitter-patter of rain on my window. I relish the feeling of soft sheets on naked skin, and I let my fingers dance across the keyboard. I’m happy and relaxed when I write like that.

I think it shows.

I do my best work in bed.

Or so I’ve been told.

Since I started doing Anonymous Sinful Sunday back in June, I’ve been lucky enough to host some fantastic images and words. The two October submissions not only meet the standard established over the last few months – they arguably raise it. Both tell a compelling story, and both manage to be extremely hot, while revealing comparatively little. They made me think: about why we send sexy photos, and whether we do it for the recipient or for ourselves; and about how hard it is to truly expose ourselves sometimes, and let others not only see us, but represent us as they see us.

I hope you enjoy them as much as I did, and if you want to be featured here on the last Sunday of next month, please get in touch.

[EDIT: One of the people who submitted a photo for this post has asked for it to be removed.]

My Portrait

He got in touch because he was going to be in London for a week and he and the friend he was visiting wanted to watch each other with someone else. He thought it might interest me. It did. But what interested me more was that he was an artist. “Will you draw me?”, I asked. “I’ll draw you like one my French women”, he joked, paraphrasing Titanic.

I revealed my motivations. I told him about Sinful Sunday, the amazing sense of community and encouragement I see amongst the regulars each week, and how once a month my friend donates his page to anyone who wants to post anonymously. I told him how much I’d already got out of contributing photos each month and that he had now got me thinking that if I was going to take advantage of my friend’s generosity with his blog to face my own body issues then I may as well take the bull by the horns and really expose myself: surely time spent sitting for a portrait, being studied, would be much more of a test?

Despite everything else that happened in that hotel room that afternoon this definitely felt the most intimate. There’s a vulnerability in sitting there, still, hearing the sweep of pencil on paper but not knowing how your body is being interpreted. But I loved it and I am very glad I did it. And I definitely wouldn’t have had the confidence to do it a few months ago, so thank you to Molly, Exhibit A and everyone who has written lovely comments about my other contributions. And thanks, of course, to the artist for my drawing – I’m going to have it framed.

After three successive months of receiving three anonymous Sinful Sunday photos, today I have two to share: luckily the reduction in quantity has not brought with it any drop in the quality of submission, as the photos below clearly demonstrate…

My imperfect perfect body

I like shoes. I love underwear.

I like the shape of my calves in heels and my whole look when I’m in a good pair of biker boots. I love the feeling of silky material when I’m freshly waxed and the look of my tits in a beautiful bra. They’re trappings that help me sculpt my imperfect body and feel beautiful.

But October is knocking and autumn means one thing for me: training starts for spring races. There’s a half marathon and (hopefully!) a marathon with my name on them before April is through. Which means for the next six months I get to wear the shoes and bra in which I feel my absolute sexiest, four times a week. And with each mile I fall more in love with my beautiful perfect body.

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I’ve noticed that when I post pics like this on my Twitter account I invariably get at least one response saying that I should shave. Such commenters seem to not understand that it’s my decision to shave or not. So I wanted a safe place to post this pic of me in my natural state.