True love

A stain on your sleeve that doesn’t shift.
You think it gone,
Dissolved, until the light catches it; bleached and fixed forever.

A bruise that fades from the skin in time
But aches if you brush against it.

A silver thread stretching across your path, which makes you stumble when you think the road is clear.

True love sticks, shrinks to a tiny pool of nausea in your stomach, lurching thickly inside you.
True love is a bite, a scratch. An itch that leaves you bleeding and raw.

One recurring nightmare. A refrain at the back of your head.

An eternal migraine.

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Educate.

Initially recorded as spoken word, listen to the original here

 

I want you to tell me things. I want you to challenge me.

Beat me at Scrabble – cross triple words, double letters, a hundred points scored in a single go and know it makes me shivery to see you do so.

I like it when you make me feel small, when you protect me.

When you educate me.

Explain things that I don’t understand – the mysteries of football, and how to make stuffing from scratch and that a griddle pan is not the best choice for frying an egg.

Smile ruefully when I get things wrong, on purpose. When I demand a bacon sandwich but won’t release you from my caress, but still demand breakfast sweetly in your ear as my arm holds fast around your waist.

Instruct me in my own independence. Send me on errands, with shopping lists and the money in my pocket. Trust me as you want me to trust myself when I fear I can’t. Etch tiny kisses at the bottom of the note for me to catch when I check I’m doing ok.

Teach me things about you – How you take your tea (milky, no sugar), how to grill bacon so it doesn’t curl at the edges, and how you like to be touched.

Let me take mental notes on how you touched yourself before you knew me – please let me watch you. I will never be as good as you but I can try, I can try to be good and do my best for you. Hold my fingers around you so I can hear the catch in your breath, the release of your moan and replicate them without your guidance.

Guide me in my own pleasure. Handle me gently and roughly and gently again. Shape me and test me. Soothe me to the brink of pleasure and finish me.

Teach me my beauty.

My worth.

Hold up the glass and make me stare at myself as you do; I want to see what you see. To understand what you know.

Your knowledge is my nourishment.

 

Blah Blah, end of year post, Blah

It feels disingenuous to write an end of year post highlighting the authors and creators I have enjoyed this year – as when those people have become friends, confidantes and so much more over the past 12 months, it looks cliquey and insular.

But the majority of these friendships were borne through our writing – mutual interests and taste similarities. Looking at one whose work emulates everything you wish to be, or writes about engagements that had never crossed your mind, or even actively repulsed you until you took the time to read about the subject and suddenly your horizons were widened and the world looked like a much different, slightly more magical place.

So I am unashamedly a fan of the work of so many people I think I am allowed to call my friends – some of whom I am certainly afraid to ask for confirmation in case they look at me askance – which has largely facilitated our friendships/’friendships’.

Anyway, here is my year roundup, faves, whatevers:

Continue reading

GIVEAWAY!!!!!

(Boring background shit)
This Summer, I went to Sexhibition (along with a very patient/loving/kinky friend of mine), and as soon as I bought the tickets, I knew I was going to visit the good people at Kink Craft.
Three months later, sitting at their stand making my own mini flogger, I was not disappointed. I was so not disappointed I immediately bought up the matching handcuffs & nipple clamps (I love a matching set, who doesn’t?).
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It was only at home that evening that I experienced buyer’s remorse. Namely that, cuffs are not actually my bag at all. Even if they are beautiful handcrafted ones.
BUT! My overindulgence can be your gain! I’ve decided to give them away, along with a handwritten story, to a lucky follower! (I know, contain your excitement).

So, rules are:

  • UK residents only (Sorry… But I am poor. Caveat: If you’re coming to Eroticon next year, your entry can be presented to you in March)
  • Follow me on Twitter
  • AND STILL BE FOLLOWING ME ON TWITTER WHEN THE DRAW TAKES PLACE, CHEEKY.
  • Like the pinned post on Twitter (So I can keep track of things #memorylikeasieve) AND:
  • Interact with my work  (Retweets, blog comments etc. NOTE RETWEETING THE PINNED TWEET DOESN’T COUNT X)
  • You must do both to qualify (Hey, there has to be a little something in it for me, too…)
  • Once I reach 500 followers, the winner shall be drawn!
  • Story will be on a subject of your choosing if you wish (As long as it’s consenting adults and no scat/bestiality/incest etc. )Good Luck! And let me know if this makes fuck all sense to anyone.