Hot Fuck Sunday (early!)

Hmm... who would you rather be? ...

I like how this picture is pretty and nasty. And how you can hardly see him - just these ghostly arms and the faintest hint of black t-shirt and trousers. In the woods.. but .. there's just so much to look at. And all the contrast of pretty and spikey. Dark and white. So uncomfortable. Oo.

:)

from smut bookshelf to smutbox

The days of the smut bookshelf are gone.



The other day, my 7 year old daughter and her little friend decided to adorn themselves with kiddie makeup (pink features heavily) and pose glamorously on my bed. My daughter requested that I photograph them. I came into the room to see my tomboy girl posed elegantly on the bed in her jeans, fluffy pink dressing gown and goopy eyeshadow and lipstick, a book she'd picked up from the bed held all provocatively in her hands.



The book was Rachel Kramer Bussell's 'Naughty Spankings', carelessly left there by moi.



Can you say 'inapproriate'? Yikes!



So my daughter can read now. And it's occurring to me that it's time to remove my smut from view. She's not at a point where she'd go looking at adult books yet - at least, not if I don't leave them lying around under her nose.

So now they're in the purple box under the bed, in case you're looking. It's not a permanent solution, but it will do for now.

And at least I can stop worrying about my mother in law having a browse...

I just read this

And I have no idea what to do with it, but I feel like I have to share it.

I wish I could write it, but that is Not To Be.

So.

Someone else did: http://www.poppystvincent.com/2010/08/for-you-when-you-get-back-from-the-airport/

This moved me.

Hot Fuck Sundae

I keep meaning to writing about fat. A weighty issue for me. But I'm so reluctant. I see calls for 'Rubenesque' stories, and think I should write something for it... but... ach. I'm blocked on it all. I don't know how to make it positive but still include my feelings on it all. How to reconcile fat and happy and fit and healthy all into one bouquet. I feel like I should write about it. I will, I suppose. Just. Not right this minute.

Little Gifts from Within

The dream is partly absurd,

to be laughed at and discarded

But I will keep the memory

of the soft silk skin of your brown chest,

your stomach,

beneath my lips

and treasure it as though it were real.