Truth will set you Free
Even naked, feeling alone and very afraid, I knew there was no going back from this. I had chosen to live my truth and it felt good!
Life of A Kinky Wife
Built from experience. Designed for practice
Tag Submissive Journal
Sex and Music- Sleeping with Musicians
We’ve all had those fantasies. You know the ones. You’re walking down the street and your favorite musician walks towards you and is entranced by your attractiveness
Standing Tall in Submission
I feel the slow permeation of confidence come to take its place. Under his gaze I am brave. Here I will know no fear.
Soulful Submission-Unplugged
There’s something about the sound of an acoustic guitar that pulls me in and makes me want to sit and stay awhile. Maybe it’s how the chords can be strummed to create a sweet melody or plucked to portray the moodiest dark complexity in our minds.
A Copy of Life in Black and White
There’s something therapeutic about being able to write the most haunted, dilapidated words your head can create, and then being able to move on. It’s like a chance to clear your head, and your soul.
Growing in Forgiveness
Often when people are looking for forgiveness, they have this vision that once their grievances are excused that life as they know it will continue. That is rarely the case. Forgiveness creates an invisible line.
In your Face
He pulls out as jets of thick ivory seed shoot across my face, layering me in his musky scent.
Liberty of Loving Life
When we have taken the time, we often fill the days away with so many activities that we’re so exhausted at the end that sleep is the only thing on our minds. If I had it my way we would take a whole week spent on a sunny beach. Our naked bodies kissed by the sun, our bums planted in the sand.
Seeds of Change
We all have dreams. We dream of having it all figured out, leaving the world a little better when we leave than it was when we found it. We dream of rising to the challenge and becoming who we aspire to be.
Remembering Grandpa
Remembering Grandpa This is not a post about kink, but rather first loves and reminiscence. Being raised in foster care, I’ve had many people come and go from my life. Some were with me for a short time and others for longer, but all of them share the final departure. For most, it was because it was a job and the job had ended. For others, it was a choice. Either way, I’m sure each person has left a little bit of themselves, imprinted on me. For the people who did stay for the duration (which has been very few), my grandfather is who I remember fondest. Born in 1937 on a small farm in Ontario, Canada, he was the oldest son of a man he would never meet. His father died at the age of 33, a couple of months before my grandfather’s birth, but was the love of my great-grandmother’s life. She spoke fondly of him until her death at the age of 71. My grandfather married my grandmother in the early ’60s, and I am sorry to admit I know little about his life between his birth and their marriage. Looking back, I was always so focused on the now and not the before. Had there been more time with him, maybe I would have asked. I could, in theory, ask my grandmother, but second-hand stories are not usually as good as the ones from the source. One story that I remember fondly though, is of when he asked my grandmother to marry him. They were driving down a dirt road, windows down, the car full of hot summer air and gravel dust. My grandfather had one arm on the back of the seat, his other loosely over the steering wheel. Turning his head, he looked over […]