Terrific Tush Tuesday
I've been thinking the last couple of days that I must do some "normal" things or I will go mad with the weight of all the stress and worry. So... I've decided once again to start blogging. I still don't have time to answer most individual emails, but this is a start. (I know, I know, I've had this exact conversation several times and have let things pull me away from following through. I'm going to try very hard not to do that this time.)
So... "normal" things again. What can be more normal than TTT? It certainly made me smile to browse through all those photos stored in the TTT folder on my computer, although I do hate to think what would happen if my computer needed repairs and some computer techy type person peeked at my hard drive. A folder with dozens of photos of behinds? All those MP3s of erotic, dominant hypnosis? I think in the area of the country in which I live I would probably quickly be labeled a deviant and forever "watched". Perhaps not. I suppose it would depend on the tech... I might find that I have a new friend ;)
I'm almost certain the female tush photo is something I haven't posted before. I wonder about the story in that photo, don't you? Where she is, who she's waiting for, will they enjoy one another right there, right then? I love those right there, right then even though we're in public moments, don't you? At times circumstances dictate we can only surreptitiously touch. At others, there is so much more...
The male with the soapy behind.. well I may have used him before, but he's worth viewing again.
More soon. I know I have a blog meme from Nigel to complete (thank you Nigel). Duncan, if you still read I believe Nigel tapped you as well. We miss your blogging.
Oh... and I would like to say again.. william - welcome back. you have no idea how much I've missed you. Thank you as always for your lovely words.
-----
The Ride
Down the highway,
a two lane blond pathway
to a trance of helpless dreams.
A hypno-mistress whispers in one ear,
a hypno-domme suggests in the other.
Soon the ride turns down
and round in spirals
of color and hypnotic sound.
The contest winner is no beginner
and yet he has never gone this far before.
He obeys and submits to the two beauties
who will not quit until they have
refined his submissiveness
and made him more than fit
for purpose.
-william
(Pulled from the comments section for the previous entry.)
Labels: Poetry, Terrific Tush Tuesday
posted by Lady Julia @ 9:19 AM
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4 Comments:
She's a blonde Irish lass, waiting for her Lord to come back to the castle from the hunts on a warm, summer evening. After a hearty meal and a hot bath, they'll sneak upstairs, leaving their guests to entertain themselves while they have a bit of a fox hunt in the Master's suites...
Er, sorry, this is where Susan usually helps out. I'm not much good at writing erotica that's not kinky.
You know I love the whole "castle" thing Tom.
This caste has a special tower that only she has the key to. Everyday she climbs the moss covered stairway to the tower.
There she studies.
She plans.
She dreams.
Her Lord has been off in distant lands for many months. As he defends the realm, she has begun reading the notorious memoirs of the Earl of Edgerton. Every scandalous word, every unspeakable act of debauchery has been seared into her soul, haunting her sleepless, sexless nights.
Finally she receives word that her lover will return in a fortnight. But will her brave knight even recognize his Lady, the one with a mysterious new dungeon and a mind full of the most carnal of possibilities?
Available March 2008 from Suepants Press.
Sorry Tom and Susan,
I think the woman in the first photo is Commander Janice Petersen of NASA. Who has returned from the the longest space shuttle mission ever! To repair and expand the international space station! After an even longer, return to earth debriefing; a friend has let Commander Petersen use her Arizona ranch for reflective relaxation. In the balmy summer evening Petersen has decided to go for a "free mind" walk, instead of the confining and claustrophic memory dreams of her ground bound bed. The caress of the desert breeze on her skin revitilises her spirit and this indulgent and connecting behaviour with the world, is what makes Petersen NASA's best astronaut.
THE GHOST VEIL
Arafin © 2008
It was so long ago since she first met him, that dark eyed soldier trying to make his way back home from some senseless conflict in a distant land under a strange and hazy sun. In his eagerness to see his homeland he had attempted a short cut through the mountains and mistakenly wandered into her little valley realm, a realm where she ruled with absolute authority, yet authority never in need of force. No. This lady of a forgotten time had at her fingertips a means of persuasion far more efficient than any sword or catapult, far more able to conquer than any massive assault or long siege. And it was with this persuasion that she had captivated the mind, body, heart, and soul of the young soldier with the dark flashing eyes.
Long ago when her forbearers had established this tiny sanctuary between the peaks of these remote mountains, the first queen in the long line of which she now held title, had woven a magic veil of white lilies, forgetmenots, and a little white flower found no where else on Earth. Into this gossamer cloth the ancient queen also wove all her magic and skills. Skills of bold hypnotic entrancement and of subtle conversational seduction. Skills of careful manipulation and of sweetest pleasures. For twenty one days she wove and then her work was done. In the frail white fabric were sewn spells which, in the hands of the rightful heir, could do to men’s minds what a prism does to white light, expand and color it into a rainbow of delicious jubilation. It could also do something else. It could absorb in ways too wonderful to fully comprehend.
The handsome soldier had only thought of stopping long enough to drink some water and perhaps ask where he might procure a meal, but the clever queen with hair like white gold had seen him and walked down from her terrace to meet him and work the magic she had worked so many times before. Approaching as if she were a schoolgirl, shy and wistful, (for she wore no robes denoting office), she let her gaze slip into his curious eyes. At once he found himself both aroused and bemused. Was she signaling him that she was willing to lay with him or just playing a youthful game? The answer to his unspoken question soon became clear as that little smile which had disarmed so many spread so slowly between the corners of her exquisite mouth that it seemed almost to stop time with it’s slowness.
Gazing like a statue he watched from within himself as this gorgeous creature raised the soft white veil above her head, swept it high, where it billowed on the still air for a moment before descending like a gentle mist over him, confusing his thoughts, jumbling his senses, and quite completely draining his will. She laughed now as he stared helpless and unable to move, his heart racing and his manhood straining against his leather breaches. With every fiber of his being he wanted this experience to both continue forever and climax in a fiery explosion of orgasm. She drew near to him now and bent her head to his ear to whisper.
A spell so soft and so clever was spoken then, combined with the spell of the veil, that the poor man had not even the slightest recollection of these events as the years passed and he raised a family and grew old in his home country across the wide mountains to the North. She had taken what she wanted and sent him gladly on his way with his satchel full of food and several skins of sweet well water to drink as he followed the little map she had drawn herself. He had found his way back to the main road and made it home after a fortnight, and she, she had gone back up to her terrace to savor that which she had taken and wait for the next handsome traveller to lose his way.
Whenever she was lonely for a mate she would don naught but the white veil, walk along the carefully crafted stone hallways of her high abode, and relish the sensations which emanated from that magic wisp of cloth. As sunlight touched this fairy mesh and she whispered the secret words, the veil would connect her to whatever lover she chose who the veil had ensnared, and in his dreams he would know passion such as waking life could never yield while she would waltz and shimmer to the music of the pleasure she had wrought. Only in his dreams would the young soldier remember the golden queen in the little mountain valley, believing it to be just that, a product of the mind. But she, she would savor for hundreds of years the joy she had known with him on that long ago sunny afternoon. The veil, like a ghost of dreamy love’s embrace, would hold these memories for her and all of her line that would follow.
Down through the ages the thin white veil would pass. Down through the ages would drift the dreams of love too sweet for even song to praise.
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