#SinfulSunday – shimmering light

You know that place you get to in arousal where lights begin to shimmer in front of your eyes and it feels as they are dancing both on and within you in an interplay with your nerve endings and finally you break and collapse into the waves of molten pleasure as they erupt from your very centre and cascade over you like an inevitable tide … ? 

Click on the lips below to see who else is being sinful this Sunday ūüíč

Why am I here – revisited


This blog is a kind of journal, a place where I can post my thoughts as I make my way across the unknown seas of single life in my fifties.  It is my attempt to build and supply a sea-going vessel for myself that will sustain my journey.  I also plan to gather maps, make new friends and have life-expanding experiences along the way.

Welcome to aboard SS Maiden Voyage shipmates.


We’ll keep going ’til we spy land….

PS. My images and writing are often explicit and definitely NSFW or under 18s.

Please use your own judgement about whether or not to continue to read.

Elust 93

Elust 93

aurora glory header elust 93
Photo courtesy of Aurora Glory

Welcome to Elust 93‚Äď

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #94 Start with the rules, come back May 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!


~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

A dress to die for

Pushing Past



~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Kink lite, Kink life


~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

The Contract

My own choices this month were:

Mrs Fever’s Body Changes – it’s courageous and compelling

My dissolute Life’s joyful peon to Cialis – aging certainly ain’t for the feinthearted but beats the alternative!

Erotic Fiction

The Contract
Speaking Truth to a Submissive Heart
Subjugate U

Sex News, Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Jerking off to be banned under Texas bill
That Time Steve Bannon Destroyed Me
How to program a sex robot

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Effortless Connections & Harmonious Energy


A Love Affair, From A to Z: ‚ÄúA‚ÄĚ ‚Äď Always
Scouting: A Lusty Limericks

Erotic Non-Fiction

Conflict(ed) part 2
It’s All About The Feet
Oral Birthday Fun ~ The Glorious Sixty-Ninth!
I Will Do…
The subtle threesome


Eroticon 2017 ‚Äď I Herd U Lieks It

Body Talk and Sexual Health

photo shoots past and future
Elust 88


I have been thinking a lot about sacrifice recently. ¬†It’s Easter, so it’s timely, but in my own personal life it seems that I have reached the point where costs have to be counted in all senses.

Those of you who read my blog will know some of my journey here to a house in a small market town near the Severn estuary and looking out over to the Forest and Beacons in the misty blue distance.  A long view has always helped me to generate a sense of a bigger perspective, the literal and physical informing the emotional and psychological and creating a sense of history in which to lodge present difficulties and so calm my anxieties around loss and mortality.

Things are changing for me.  I have a new job in my former career and am already bumping shoulders with those who knew me in a former life.  I find myself well able to manage this comfortably these days. The sense of shame and guilt has shifted and I can once more hold my head up in commercial circles and even feel some pride at having come through the shitstorm that was the ending of the business, intact.

My house is finally up for sale and has had an offer accepted on it.  This means my two sons and my soon to be ex husband all have to find somewhere else to live.  I left the home in December 2014 after a DV incident in December 2013 and subsequent awfulness including online stalking and hacking into my email accounts, and then blackmailing me with the evidence to tell the kids his behaviour was justified by my infidelity.  He also left me to run the business for 6 months on my own.  He was the MD and chief technician.

I left the business first. ¬†I simply could not hack it any longer. ¬†The previous 9 months had shattered me and I was no longer able to manage it properly. ¬†I left the house when it was realised that the business was failing and there was no more money coming in. ¬†This was so that a room could be let out and the house kept on for the boys. ¬†When I first moved out I had no where to go so I stayed in a friend’s flat for 3 weeks. Then I moved to my mum and dad’s which nearly killed all three of us. ¬†I was trying to work freelance and it wasn’t easy. ¬†Nowhere to work, nowhere to rest, no privacy, no contact with my old life.

I was cut adrift.

I had already sacrificed a relationship with my eldest daughter for this man. ¬†They didn’t get on, she was (remains I think) a difficult person to get on with but she was my daughter and I love her. ¬†I had let her go because they literally couldn’t be in the same room as each other, at the same time I also let go of my only grandchildren.

I didn’t see this as sacrifice, it all just seemed the stuff of life, the things you just get on with and that actually I felt that I had little choice about at the time. ¬†but now, as the house is sold and my home dispersed, it is time to count the cost and I struggle to do that.

It has been pointed out to me that I am still trying to sacrifice myself in order to save my sons from the inevitable pain of growing up. ¬†I agree with this analysis but I suppose what I recognise in this is an acknowledgement of how central and vital my role as a mother has been in my own life. ¬†It was, for many years, the ONE GOOD THING I had done. ¬†I could see that my style was not the same as others. I didn’t police homework, or insist on chores but I did work to get them into good schools, take them to museums and art galleries and for picnics and to hear live music. ¬†We had a family culture; books, good food around that table and a shared love of a takeaway and Top Gear. ¬†I was proud of it, proud of us, proud of me for making it so and to bear the responsibility for pulling it apart is still a source of pain to me.

It is a kind of exquisite self torture.  In order to grow it had to change, it could not sustain change without falling apart, the centre could not hold, things fall apart.

I live alone now. I don’t see my daughter or grandkids at all at the moment and my adult children are busy pulling themselves back together again and facing adult life. That part is as it should be but I have been challenged to think about what I want family to be and to mean now. ¬†It won’t be centred around visits back home because there isn’t one and I am conflicted about whether it is still necessary for me to provide somewhere for them to stay if they need to. After all I needed it in my 50s and hard as it was to live with mum and dad I am grateful to them for that generosity in my hour of desperation. ¬†However there is the counting costs side of this to consider and that means regardless of what I wish I may not be able to provide for them any longer. ¬†I may just have to focus on myself for the first time in my life.

When I consider that point I also recognise that for most of my life I got what I wanted by providing for others or encouraging others to provide for me. ¬†A kind of manipulation I now am ashamed of but in my defence I learned to do this at home. My mother had little (and still doesn’t have) autonomy and only when my dad’s attention was elsewhere. ¬†In all other myriad and small cutting ways he seeks to control, ostensibly for her/their own good, but the effect is to demoralise her and undermine her confidence except when driven to act by extreme frustration and defiance. ¬†This is my history. ¬†It is why I accepted the same model for so long as an example of how a relationship should be. A kind of natural order if you like. Intellectually I knew I was my husband’s equal and in fact was often put on a pedestal as clever and better (as in kinder, nicer) than him. ¬†But emotionally and psychologically I was always in a a subservient mode, attentive to his every mode and whim, and it made me feel real.

Until it didn’t.

My relationship with my boys is strained. They visited me in October to ask questions of me – “How many men mum?”, “An affair is more than once, was it more than once?” They cut me to the quick. Another small death at the hands of a knife put into their hands by their dad. ¬†How can I talk to them about BDSM, the mutual exploration of our sexuality their dad and I engaged in, how it contributed to my realisation that our relationship wasn’t healthy because it was not founded on the concept of consent? ¬†Why would I tell them of their dad’s own interest in cross-dressing except to offer a tit-for-tat that has the potential to hurt their relationship with him? ¬†Except that yet again I sacrifice myself for them.

Today of all days I realise that what I hope for, what I long for, is redemption.  The narrative around forgiveness of sins is ripe and redolent for me today and I seek to rise above what has been said and done and to leave it behind in the tomb of my marriage along with the shroud.  I seek to forgive myself for desiring myself more than them. I seek their forgiveness for being a person as well as their mother. I seek redemption and a rise into wholeness.

And I will rise and say to them ‘Who you look for is no longer there, come and let’s find joy.”

She lives

#SinfulSunday- Easter Chocolate

It’s Easter synonymous with rabbits, eggs, and chocolate!

Melted it is a smooth-running delight. Thickly plastered over breasts and nipples to provide a tasty mouthful.

And since it’s Easter you get more than one picture. Enjoy!

Don’t forget to click on the lips below to see who else is being sinful today ūüíč


#SinfulSunday – Anonymous 1

This is a first for this blog. A guest post from an anonymous contributor for #SinfulSunday. 

This gorgeous picture is entitled Playing with Light and I am delighted to have been asked to post it.

Please leave lots of comments letting my contributor what you have enjoyed about this image ūüíē

And don’t forget to click on the lips below to see who else is being sinful today ūüíč

PS if you would like to me to anonymously post a #SinfulSunday picture on your behalf let me know. I will do this once a month ūüėė

#PlayingOutLive episode one Рwith @TabithaErotica 

Life has been hectic recently but I just would like to celebrate our first in a series of monthly podcasts focusing on sexuality in all its myriad glories in a light hearted and sex positive way.

The first one featured the lovely @TabithaErotica talking about her #30dayorgasmfun and its positive effect on her mood.

Listen again here:


Join us on 20th April at 9.30pm (BST) for the next one. You can listen via Spreaker or your browser and join in with the chat via twitter, comments or even Skype in to join in the fun or add your opinion – contact @WatchingDistant, @mistress34F or @_Masterseye for techie help if you need it! 
We are also always interested in suggestions for topics you are interested I hearing discussed.  Let me know in the comments below!

I am really looking forward to it and I would love you to join us ūüíč

#SinfulSunday – prep

Warmer days are here bringing with them the desire to wear bare legs and expose my toes.  This means preparations have to start for them to look their best, so it’s off with the old, dark nail varnish and on with the new light colours. Off with hold ups and on with naked legs under lovely flippy summer dresses and skirts.

I love summer, don’t you?ūüíč

Click on the lips below to see who else is being sinful today

Curiosity killed the cat

I am curious – I must be, my bio says so! At times this has got me into trouble; such as when I continued to open the Pandora’s Box of kink regardless of my husband’s desire to keep it jammed shut or when I have agreed to meet people that perhaps on reflection I would have been better not to have. ¬†I tread a fine line between wanting to explore, valuing honesty and clarity and feeling the need to protect not only my own privacy¬†but that of those I care about. ¬†We all have our reasons for needing to guard some aspects of ourselves more closely than others and I endeavour to respect this requirement my friends and ask that mine is too.

Blogging and Twitter¬†allow a peculiar juxtaposition; that of ¬†being apparently willing to reveal all (I post naked and revealing pictures of myself on the internet) whilst not wanting to give away my identity or location to anyone I haven’t met in person for my own peace of mind. ¬† My reasoning goes that ff I meet you I can tell if I can trust you, if I don’t trust you after meeting you I can withdraw and reassert boundaries that will protect me. ¬†This has proved not to be entirely true recently which is the reason for this post really

Twitter is a deceptively open medium allowing a multiplicity of levels of nuanced interaction: we can block, mute, interact on TL and in DM, stalk without the other knowing, stalk and give a shot across another’s bows by liking specific conversations involving pertinent people, follow and unfollow surreptitiously by soft blocking, unfollow people and then lock our account, unfollow with a flourish following a twitter spat and tell everyone about it and imply they should do the same, create numerous accounts and mislead people about our agenda, create numerous accounts and explore various aspects of our personalities. ¬†We can create, collaborate and tease, we can explore and gather information and some of us then go on to¬†use that information for their own purposes.

Sometimes twitter can appear cliquey, full of people wishing each other Good Morning and saying Good Night Рthe same avis saying similar things to each other each day.  For some this is exclusive, for others evidence of inclusivity.  I knew no-one when i joined twitter and the morning and evening rituals allowed me to build connections and to check and monitor interactions to see if I liked the style of an account or not.  It can also be the way that people set on making connections for their own ends operate.  I make a point of noticing if a hierarchy exists of status transactions such as who gets responded to regularly, who gets a kiss at the end of a response, who has a pet name, who alludes to a shared joke Рin the hands of a skillful manipulator these interactions can play on the insecurities of many, creating an illusion of connection and rapport in order to sustain an online image that is at odds with real life behaviour.

In my experience the shit really hits the fan when twitter expectations collide with real life.   Many relationships are conducted predominantly online with only occasional physical meetings.  Twitter allows a discrete platform for these relationships which may need to be conducted with a certain level of privacy. Unfortunately this can also provide a platform both for deception and for a startling denouement, the ripples from which spread out from account to account and can overflow back into real life too.

However I have come to a startling realisation recently, this will not surprise those of you more robust and resilient than I am at times but there we have it.  It is that not only can I not take at face value the apparent motivations of some people on twitter.  It is also that I also cannot be sure that I will not over-ride my gut feeling about them because of my current circumstances which at times can be lonely and isolated.  It has happened that someone I met and trusted has gone on to become actively hostile towards me and it looks like they have used me to gain access to people I care about and a community I value.  I feel a mixture of guilt and rage about this as I am wise enough to know that what has been done to me will, inevitably be done to someone else and I feel responsible for that possibility.  I feel enraged because I simply cannot comprehend the mindset that would allow this kind of behaviour.

So.  What do I do now with this new knowledge?

Firstly I am engaged in maintaining my own equilibrium. ¬†I know that what has happened is not my fault. ¬†It wasn’t my behaviour that provoked this and that knowledge is so hard won. ¬†My go to response has been to blame myself in the past but this time … no sirree. ¬†Secondly I took a good hard look at why I am on twitter and why I blog and I am satisfied that whilst I do not have to justify them to anyone, they are legitimate and healthy and that matters to me.

Finally I have to say that abuse on twitter is not only a thing, it is a common occurrance and I understand how awful it is.  If you are experiencing it contact me and I will support you if I can because twitter is a lifeline for the isolated, the lonely, the people in transition, the vulnerable and the wounded and I am fucked if I will see it being spoilt like this if I can do anything about it.

Also be careful who you meet and who you introduce them to.  I wish I had been.