I know I wrote about quitting last year.
Quitting blogging, if so and when?
I know this year has been pretty dry on my postings. I neglected everything. I have tons of material to write about, just finding the time to get it all done. But I’m still not ready to quit. I think habits are very difficult to quit. Hobbies tend to be easier to quit, that’s just my opinion. One habit I know that is difficult for most people who start to quit…is smoking.
The definition of Nyctophilia is the love of darkness or night or feeling like you belong in the dark. This usually applies to those who often feel sadness. .
There are times when I feel the darkness. It’s my darkness though, I do love the night. But there is also a part of me that likes to be inside before the light of day. There is a certain time during the night that scares me.
I love the lights, the beat of the night, the night sky. The peacefulness of the night-time is soothing.
Mr. Sam, like Charlie is not a vanilla partner. Mr. Sam and I have been together for 7 months now, we are getting used to each other. We talk about almost everything, I tend to still get embarrassed about some things.
We recently discussed the idea of mutual masturbation, sex toys and other kinky ideas. He asked me to bring my bag of sex toys over, so I did. We went through all of my toys that were enjoyable for me to use. I had won a contest with some bondage rope included as an extra prize.
He had seen the neon green rope and immediately the Sailor in him started thinking of ways to use it on me. I have never been tied up before by any one. I have some deep seeded trust issues about being restrained. But Mr. Sam is different, even though I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop, a part of me trusts him.
He had mentioned some photo ideas before we got started, but once he started tying the rope, we forgot all about taking any photos. Until after playtime was over, I had to stop because I had pulled on the ropes too hard. Mr. Sam had used one long piece of rope with several loose knots in it for my ankles and wrists. I had pulled on the rope causing it to tighten around my ankles. I had left my socks on, pulled them off to look for any marks because the rope seemed really tight.
This is what I saw when I took off my sock.
I will try to write a story about my first rope experience.
Meanwhile check out some other Sinful Sunday posts.
My dive bar isn’t a classy place far from it, but the booze is cheap and there is a certain atmosphere that I enjoy when I’m there. There are times when I order a Henry’s Hard Soda or a Barefoot Spritzer and I will ask for a glass of ice.
I’ve always wanted to be sitting in a upscale bar and hear someone order a drink on the rocks.
I hear “you want a glass with ice?”
“Yes Please.” And it makes the booze go down quicker and smoother. I have switched back to my old stand-by drink Malibu Rum and pineapple juice. The ice makes it taste so good, refreshing and it goes down quickly. I also love drinking Coconut Mules that’s loaded with tons of ice in the brass mug and its so cold and delicious.
I like sitting on the bar stool with my drink full of ice and a straw so I can nervously stir my drink while waiting on my friends.
While at my favorite watering hole, a friend of mine was there sporting his normal “man bun.” I had always been envious of his long wavy locks and I have always had a thing for men with long hair. However, this young man is too young for me to ever think about in only other way.
I asked him if I could take his photo for this challenge.
He seemed very unsure of himself and is a very sensitive young man.
I tried to get him to relax, but the more I spoke to him the more he became nervous. I really like this photo. I haven’t heard his opinion yet, hope he likes it.
I didn’t think about it when I was taking the photo, but I had already used “glasses” last year for the A to Z Challenge.
I was trying to get as many photos done as I could. I met a fellow patrons daughter, she was getting ready to leave and had her sunglasses on.
I have always loved flesh between my teeth.
His smooth creamy skin (or sometimes anyone’s for that matter) calls to me in such a way that I can’t resist or stop myself.
Especially, when I’m on top of a lover, seeing their midriff exposed and if I am working my way down their body to satisfy both our needs for oral gratification I tend to bite. I was kissing him, nibbling on his nipples. I bit one too hard and he cried out, but the sadist side of me became more excited. I started biting his stomach, but accidentally bit the spot where he had a surgical procedure done. I felt bad, because I know the skin can be more sensitive in those areas, so I moved on.
I worked my way over to his ribs, where the flesh can easily be bitten and pulled. I started biting as I normally do, but he started to tease me about something unimportant. I began to bite harder, pulling at his skin, twisting it between my teeth, pushing my tongue against the tender section of flesh between my teeth. My mind drifted into dark fantasy thoughts of tearing the flesh from his body, tasting his blood on my lips. I became even more aroused. If Mr. Sam had moaned in pleasure or even cried out, those sounds would have pushed me in an orgasm. When my hips move, when the need to relieve the “itch” between my legs becomes so intense that I would have mounted his cock or sat on his face. But Mr. Sam never cried out in pain, he never pulled away from my mouth like most people would. He didn’t tell me to stop, at once. He laid there perfectly still, which concerned me yet I didn’t care about the reason. If this is trust then I admire and adore him even more.
I love French Fries.
I love them with ketchup and sometimes I eat them without.
I love the crinkled, the steak and the regular fries and of course American. But I don’t like the waffles fries. I like cheesy fries, but not “the with everything” fries.
Sometimes I dip my fries and sometimes I drown my fries. I don’t like my fries with ranch, mayo or anything odd like those things. Just pass the ketchup.