Coming Out The Other Side.

I have been ill, hence the lack of blogging. I have been told it was probably tonsillitis, I had a fever with hot and cold sweats, was weak, achy shaky limbs, headaches constantly and every time I swallowed (water, saliva…anything) it felt like I was swallowing a balled up hedgehog.

I am coming out of the tail end of it now though with just the sore throat left to annoy me, but I can cope with that now that I feel more human. My husband has been wonderful, quite the domestic god it would seem. Cleaning, sorting the kids, shopping, looking after me, buying me strepsils and ibuprofen every two minutes (or so it seemed!).

It is his birthday on thursday so my plan is to pop in to town on thursday morning and treat him to some sexy underwear to unwrap from my body later that evening.

 

I was thinking something like this; pretty and sexy.

 

I know, like most men he prefers lace and I quite like the sexy but feminine nature of this. Chemises are always good to hide the bits you don’t want to show too, skimming over the bulges and highlighting the tantalising thighs and cleavage; definitely bits I want to draw attention to.

However, maybe I should cater less to my tastes and more so to his with something a little different?

What man wouldn't want basque, suspenders and stockings...the works!

 

Of course, you would have to imagine this on a curvier woman and I am not sure if that is such a good look? What do you guys think? What do men really prefer? The uber sexy basque but with the potential to have rolls of flesh oozing out of the sides…or the sultry pretty chemise that still says ‘lets do it’ but with less of a ‘kinky’ kick to it? 

So that is my husband’s present…along with some other things too (wink wink!) Lets hope I feel much better by thursday.

I was also stressing about having to miss Uni. I have done hardly any studying this week and feel so bad for it. Last night and this morning I have collected some newspaper and magazine reviews (as we are going to have to write a review or blog in a fortnight and submit it). Ha, we have to take in example blogs of which we have enjoyed…for a fleeting moment I thought to take in one of mine (anonymously of course) but thought better of it. I have decided to focus on the review.

In another class I have been given an idea to think about and now have to write a few hundred words about it. Can anyone help me with this? The brief is this;

Imagine you are trapped in a cell, 5ft by 5ft, and you have nothing with you. You are a prisoner. The walls are grey concrete and there is one tiny window on one wall. What would you think about, or draw upon to keep you sane?

  

I have a few ideas but I was just wondering what others thought. What would YOU think about to keep you sane in such circumstances? A lot of people may think ‘loved ones’ straight away, but wouldn’t that send you insane, thinking of what you have lost…what you miss? I don’t know? I would be interested to know what you readers think…put yourselves in this situation…and I would love to know your response please.

Right, going to go try some soup for dinner…that shouldn’t hurt right? Ha! (Still 6lb weightloss…silver lining and all that!)

Thanks for your responses, it would be very interesting and a big help.

 

 

 

 

Bruised : A Short Writing Exercise.

As a writer it is important to write everyday, keep the mind and the pen fresh. Sometimes I write a heap of pants, sometimes I write something I think I could use again. Here is something I wrote recently, choosing a random word then spending 5-10 minutes writing.

Bruised.

 

It lies beneath the surface. Evidence of a strike. A painful memory that will fade over time but for now, it lingers. I trace my fingers over the speckles of blue and red that reminds me. I was wrong. I see that now but the bruise doesn’t care if I have learnt my lesson or not, it will stay and glow with decorated madness until it chooses to leave me and permit the memory to vanish.

The angle in my mirror makes it look like a rose. It blooms, spreads it petals and takes over the delicate pink that was there before. But how can it be a rose? I cannot control its expanse; I cannot prune it into the shape I want. No. It is a weed. It has its own life, its own rules. It will grow and spread to where it wants and creep into my skin like a claw grabbing at my innocence and reflecting my sin.

It is a reminder. A memory. I wish it would fade.

Motivation Is The Key.

What a great few days.

I seem to have found some quiet motivation from somewhere and have taken control of the house, organised the finances and generally put things in order. Hubby has been in on it too. I had a great day on tuesday while he was at work, having a slightly stressful but good sort out.

Then on wednesday hubby and I did something we haven’t done in ages…we sorted out the garden. Of course, there was some chopping of wood, removing over-grown bushes and feeling ‘manly’ in these kinds of tasks. My hubby likes to feel manly. He likes to contribute by doing things that men ‘should’ do (in the loosest sense of the word because he isn’t sexist, just likes to feel that his manliness is needed). This is fine with me, I like to be looked after and let him to the rough jobs.

My job today was to head to the pet shop to buy two guinea pigs for my daughter. Sooooo cute! She picked a sandy and white coloured one, called Buzz, and an albino one with red eyes, called Nibbles. Nibbles is certainly living up to his name. He is very chilled and relaxed too. Buzz is a little more shy but with plenty of handling he should improve. We are keeping them in a cage inside. I have had guineas before and usually keep them outside. I figured this time we try them inside and see if it makes them more tame.

So it’s busy busy here with a sort out of the kid’s bedroom next on the agenda! I love having things to do!

I am also ahead with my reading for semester two, starting on monday. I have read some poems in the poetry anthologies I have and have just finished a book called Trumpet by Jackie Kay. It’s a brilliant book about the death of a famous jazz trumpeter, and the effects of his death on family and friends…and the world…when a secret is discovered about the trumpeter, one that not even his son can comprehend or accept.

If you are looking for a well written book about love, sympathy, tenderness and secrets then you will really enjoy this one. Next up I have to read the graphic novel Persepolis.

Happy reading and writing!

Don’t You Want Me, Baby?

I think I have just had a disturbing realisation about myself, one that I may have known for a long time but only now am able to truly admit it out loud.

I want people to want me, regardless of whether I want them!

I am sat here now waiting for my daughter’s playdate to arrive and I am a little nervous. Since my daughter moved up to school, and left pre-school, she has been asking to invite this little boy round who she got on really well with but who is a few months younger than her and hasn’t moved up to school yet. She doesn’t usually mix with boys, being such a girlie girl, so I wanted to encourage this friendship as I think it would be good for her to mix with boys as well as girls. A reminder that she is four, almost five (in three weeks!)

So when I left my number at pre-school for the helpers to pass on to this boy’s mother (who I have never met) so she could get in touch and bring her son over to play if she wanted, I was surprised when the boy’s father gave me a call. Turns out the boy’s mother works full-time and so it would be the father bringing him round. I initially thought that it was fine, hardly batted an eyelid. I get on well with my male friends and I think it’s great when a father takes on a lot of the responsibilities of looking after the child.

Now though, I have spent the morning making sure my hair looks nice, tidying up; I even had this silly thought of me sitting darning socks (with some baking in the oven) for when he arrived. All domestic goddessy, yet looking sultry and alluring at the same time.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my husband and this father has a wife/partner (not sure which) which I would not even consider getting involved with…at all! But, some stupid part of me, deep inside, wants this man to desire me, want me, lust after me. Not show it, but go home and think of me later, maybe while he has a cheeky wank (or worse, when he is fucking his partner!)

Why do I think like this? Does it come down to my low self-esteem, wanting to be wanted and loved in some way?

All I know is I feel weird now and it is making me nervous. My husband wasn’t concerned when I told him, though he did raise a cheeky eyebrow at me and told me not to tell him the kinds of stories I write (should discussions of what we ‘do’ come up.) I just laughed and told him not to be so silly and that I loved him. Now, I find I want to tell him what I do (if it comes up in conversation) just to tease him…make him wonder.

Gosh, am I mental? Do others feel like this (and are sensible enough to just not mention it)?

Anyway, it’s nearly dinner time so I best go top up my make up, huh! *Shakes head in shame!*

…and then she slept, NOT!

Well, it feels like it has been a while since I last blogged, but I do have a good excuse…promise!

I have had three essay deadlines within the space of 2 weeks and I have been working like a mad woman to try to get them done. I did, they have all been completed and submitted. I am disappointed with my severe lack in preparation and time management, but I am lucky that this year’s grades do not count towards the degree mark and we are free to learn these skills in a safe environment without too severe consequences. I know now what I need to do and what time I need to allow for myself to get the work done.

The thing is, knocking out a 2-3000 word short story isn’t too tricky for me. Once I have an idea I can get it out and write it down. Writing an academic essay however, well it’s a little different. I never realised how long it would take just to gather quotes and references. Well, I do now.

So I finished and submitted my final assignment last night then spent some time snuggled up on the sofa to watch a film with my hubby, who I apologised to for neglecting over the past few weeks. I say neglect…he still got sex when he wanted (I would never deny him that), but I did spend most evenings in front of a book or computer. He said he never felt neglected, and I hope that’s the truth.

He has been brilliant actually, while I have been so busy. He has done the housework, helped with the children and been my rock. He has given cuddles when I looked stressed and made me chuckle when I wanted to cry. This is the man I married, the man I lost for a while, not long ago. I actually think it was because he felt needed. Recently I have really needed him and I think this made him take some control.

Maybe, and I am not sure because if it is true I don’t realise I am doing it, but maybe I am so busy running the house and doing things he feels like there is nothing to do, nothing he is needed for? Maybe?

One night I had a pounding headache after so much work. I took some painkillers and went to bed. Not long after he came upstairs and lay on top of me. His weight and skin pressed against me, consuming me. It felt so good, my body just seemed to relax. He then got a little frisky. He put on the cock ring and then we had sex, simple, missionary sex. However, he did it all! He just did everything he could to give me all the pleasure. My head still hurt a little and I was trying to chase my orgasm, wanting him to succeed in giving me what he thought I needed.

I eventually gave up and was going to let him just carry on anyway, knowing I wasn’t going to come, and the moment I relaxed…BOOM! It hit me. Like I had been working so hard to swim and then when I finally gave up I drowned in the pleasure. He had to cover my mouth to stop me from screaming. It was so good. Then he stopped. He pulled out and cuddled up to me as we fell asleep, my headache gently dissipating.

I have moaned and whined and slagged off my husband in the past (what wife hasn’t…I mean, non of us are perfect). But in that moment, in fact in these few weeks, he has supported me like he used to when we were younger. I need to know what to do to keep this. Keep our marriage like this.

Tonight is my turn to repay the favour…tonight I plan on him having all the fun. To let him know how much I appreciate him. It seems sad but it’s the only thing I know how to do, the only way I can thank him so he understands.

I hope he reads this!

A Birthday Present To ‘Top’ The Rest!

Well, well, well! Hasn’t my husband just earned himself a truckload of brownie points!

It was my birthday on Sunday, I am now 28. Gosh, does this mean I am meant to be a grown up now then? Ha, good luck with that!

For my birthday my husband got me (and him I guess) a vibrating cock ring. I had seen them on the internet before and found them intriguing, mainly because I thought it might help with my ‘on top’ problem.

The thing, you see, I think I am one of possibly very few women who get no pleasure from being on top during sex. I feel very little in the way of pleasure and it feels like I may as well be horse riding (in fact I would certainly get more pleasure out of that!!!). I know what you may be thinking, play with yourself, or let your husband play with you while you ride him or vary your angle/movements/rhythm. Believe me I know this and have tried. I actually don’t know why I don’t enjoy it. It is seriously snoozeville for me no matter what I do. I did wonder if it’s because I feel I am in a dominant position and it contradicts my submissive nature. I don’t know.

So when I unwrapped it I was eager to try it out and see if it would work.

WELL!

My poor, poor husband (wink wink). I was riding him hard and fast, grinding onto him, loving the buzzing feeling that HE controlled. Yes! It has a remote control. He held on to it and just watched me rise higher and higher into ecstasy as I wriggled and thrust against him, trying to find my release.

All hail the vibrating cock ring!

Now I must mention that my husband doesn’t actually need the cock ring himself. In fact he needs a device that would help him find his release quicker really. This present was solely for me and it was wonderful. I just remember being exhausted, my hair in disarray and pleading for him to let me have my release.

He did in the end of course, after some whimpering!

Best birthday present ever and up there as my best sex toy so far! Now, if I could persuade him the pony butt plug would be a good idea I’ll be laughing!!!

M x

Struggling To Write.

I have been sat at my desk for nearly an hour now trying to make a start on one of my assignments due in two weeks. I have made a good start on the creative writing assignment in which I am writing about an online affair between a man and a married woman. I am writing it as a pastiche, a series of emails, a diary entry and a newspaper article to tell the story. All’s well there.

I also have to write two English Language assignments too and this is where my head just wants to explode. I need to at least make some kind of start so that I am able to say, ‘Yeah, I have made a start.’ I feel like maybe I should crack on with the creative writing assignment, since that one is going so well, but if I leave these others to the last minute then I will stress myself out more.

The other annoying thing is that the library only has so many books (all the ones I need are on loan!) and I haven’t the money to buy them online. Well, I could use my birthday money on Sunday I guess…happy birthday huh!

I am just ranting, I am sorry. It’s rude of me to do it here I know.

I must be positive! Maybe I should just go read more…try and collect a few more quotes, that might help me get going! Maybe I picked the wrong essay question? Too late to change now!

Wish me luck!