Not a glamorous bra, but the boobs spilling out of it are top notch!
Dappled Nude in Motion
You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.” ― Pablo Neruda
The Hunger is Real
Sometimes you just need what you need. I’m still learning that it’s okay to have needs, to admit that the hunger is real, especially when it comes to sex and sexual/sensual self-care.
Hot or Cold
I’ve been out on that open road You can be my full time daddy white and gold Singing blues has been getting old You can be my full time baby Hot or cold
Boob Day: Better Out Than In
Let me just say: thank fuck Mercury is out of retrograde. No excuses but it always makes things tougher and requires more thought especially with communication. Loads of emotions lately and it’s not been the best nor most productive week but I’m trying not to hold that against myself. However, the question remains, would you…
Accidentally
I have always struggled to be fully present, it’s something I have been focusing on learning and fostering within myself for only the past year. I still have work to do. Due to the usual challenges, I was shocked and a bit delighted to notice this little row of four puncture points, one for each…
Chance of Flurries
The sky is filled with snow, not yet fallen, lavender clouds, mission unfulfilled, laden with infinite perfection in countless, tiny stars of ice. I am that snow: soft and silent, falling without memory or hesitation. A flurry of pale desire blankets us and your warm hands begin to thaw my frozen heart.
BoobDay: Early Morning
You should be waking up here. Or me there. I want you at arm’s length or closer. Come to me. Stay awhile.
BoobDay: Counting the Sleeps
This week has been a countdown since Saturday, measured night by night until I see him again. He’s new, I’ve held back from mentioning him here, but Reader, my heart is excited.
Boobday: Battle
Fighting with my body, with my mind and heart, again. Looking for validation in strangers’ hands and mouths and jutting cocks. Swallowing air that feels like sea water, crying tears that feel like sand. Why wasn’t I born beautiful?
BoobDay: Polaroid
She thrust the camera into my hands, it was heavy and older than we were. She lay back playfully, coy as she pulled up her shirt, pert tits wobbling softly.
Boobday: Offering
Come closer, burrow in against me, muffle the sounds of the rain with your body on mine.
Boob Day: Outtake
This photo was never meant to be a feature. Imperfect, forgettable, lacklustre.
Siren
A mermaid found a swimming lad, Picked him up for her own, Pressed her body to his body, Laughed; and plunging down Forgot in cruel happiness That even lovers drown. WB Yeats
Boobday: it feels like Friday
It’s been quite a week: libido in overdrive but creativity in major drought. In both senses I’ve felt a bit scrambled.
Boob Day: Unrestrained
I discovered a new hashtag on Instagram yesterday …