Late night HNT

Post-pedicure HNT

A new-old change in direction

This blog used to be the place where I wrote about everything kink-related. My experiences in the community, my lovers, my thoughts on relationships- everything.

But somewhere along the way it turned into my sex blog. Where I write my fantasies, my sexiest thoughts and kinkiest desires, but nothing else.

That is not what I choose for this space to be anymore.

So.

Here's where I am right now.

I live in a beautiful little 1940's house with 2 of my partners, Jack and Airen. My house was built as officer housing for a nearby Army base, and while the neighborhood is now quite diverse, I prefer it that way. My home is filled with antiques I've inherited, but I hope it doesn't feel too much like a house filled with antiques to visitors. I love my furniture, my china and silver, but in the end it is 'wood and metal, wrought in pleasing form,' to paraphrase Jacqueline Carey, and what it means to me is replaceable.

Jack and I have been together for 5 years now, and Airen and I are approaching one this April. Jack has his own bedroom, his own little cave to retreat to, and Airen and I share the master bedroom. This is not a comment on any hierarchy, but merely on my darling Jack's antisocialness.

I was asked to join the Board of Directors for the local TNG group which was the first to welcome me home to my kink community.

I was awarded the title of Ms Southeast Olympus Leather 2011, and in August I'll compete for International Ms Olympus.

This is my graduating semester of undergrad, with my BA in Psychology. (I dropped my Sociology double-major down to a minor in the interests of graduating and getting on the job market).

I broke my collarbone in January, and have been in a sling since then, and will be in one until June.

I recently started a new relationship, which I have absolutely no idea how to label, except that it's so much like what I had with Lucivar that it terrifies me.

So yeah. Busy, much?

I'm currently in Ft Lauderdale, FL at Beyond Leather, and badly need to wrap up this rambling entry on nothing terribly important so that I can go downstairs and actually be sociable and not make my producer and judges regret giving me this title.

Writer's Block

I want to write about you, but the words aren't there.

I want to write about the shape of your eyes when you smile at me, open and not-quite-innocent. The taste of salt on your skin, suddenly spiced with the coppery hint of fear when my teeth begin to meet. The sharp intake of your breath when my lips graze your neck. The way your lips part in a combination of fear and desire when the predator watches through my eyes.

I want to write about it.

I want to tell everyone about the arch of your throat when you offer it to my teeth, the sharp hiss of your breath and the low growling moan when I bite down. I want to tell them about the way your body presses into me, and the sharp sounds you make when I roll your nipple between tongue and teeth. I want to tell them about the sweet, meaty scent of your belly and the way you moan when I run my hands over your trembling body.

I want to write about you, but the words just aren't there.