Hello! I’ve had the very great honour of being tagged by Leo! Here goes, 7 random / weird facts about myself:
I’m very particular about my tea. First put the (Typhoo) tea bag in the DESIGNATED tea cup. Pour on boiling water. Leave to brew for yay long. Give the tea bag a good squeeze before removing it. Add one teaspoon of unrefined cane sugar. Then add a small amount of skimmed milk. I’ll know if it’s made any other way and I won’t drink it!
I can sit on my (dread locked) hair.
Vices: I don’t drink but I smoke (like a trooper). Oh, and I’m a banana junkie – gimme a high five Leo!
My left thumb is double jointed.
In May this year I did the Playtex Moonwalk - a marathon distance (yep, 26.2 miles, that’s twenty six point two miles) around central London at night. The purpose of it was to raise awareness and money for breast cancer treatment & research. To this end it was very successful but I’ve got two moans about that night when around 15,000 people (mainly women) took to the streets: 1) It was apparently impossible to get a woman to send us off from the starting line. Instead the start of the walk was heralded by some sleazy DJ-type bloke who shared a couple of very inappropriate, not funny jokes (including one about what us “ladies” might get up to with the blokes leaving night clubs!!!) 2) There wasn’t a single cup of tea to be had the whole night! (I would have thought some tea company somewhere would have bitten their hand off for that kind of PR). The words “piss up” and “brewery” come to mind. Sorry, I’m in a bah-humbug mood (read periodic). Oh and, marathon runners – I salute you.
Favourite foods: green chilli, chick peas, mangos, Indian sweets, chocolate, marzipan & cherry liqueurs.
I always sleep on my left side (usually snuggled up to my girlfriend) with the cover over my right ear – when I was a kid I was afraid of the Bogey Man biting my ear off.
1. Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog. 2. Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog - some random, some weird. 3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog. 4. Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
It’s 10pm on Saturday night and we’re curled up on my sofa watching something on telly. I’m lying in the crook of your arm, my head on your shoulder, like that’s where I’ve always been.
I’m anticipating the night ahead in bed with you and decide to have a long soak in the bath. This is about relaxing & treating myself, and most importantly, prolonging the moment before we are naked together.
The water is warm & soothing. The bubbles caress my skin. My cunt is already hot as fire. I play with the water, slowly washing it over my arms, breasts, thighs, stomach, cunt.
I’m thinking about how I will have you. My cheeks are flushed. I’m thinking about how I will lie on top of you and, holding one hand at the back of your neck, use the other to trace the treasure of your handsome face, I will kiss you slowly, with meaning & intention. And all the time I will be overwhelmingly aware of your body under mine, how your breasts feel against mine, how your cunt feels against my thigh, the beat of your heart and your hot breath.
Out of the bath, I dry myself slowly and then moisturise. Thoroughly. I want to be as smooth as smooth can be and I’m enjoying the feel of me. But all the while I’m thinking about how I will touch you. My mind starts to race at how I will kiss your neck, trace my fingers across your breasts and firmly take your nipples.
What shall I wear for you? Just knickers I think, and choose, carefully choose, a sheer & sparkly, navy blue pair. I look at myself in the full length mirror – I like how my bottom looks in these.
In bed, I can hear you switching off the lights and checking that the front door is locked. I’m thinking about my plans for you and I’m dripping wet.
You come upstairs, strip and get in to bed. Immediately, you are leaning over me, there’s a moments hesitation before you take my wrists and plant them firmly above my head. You kiss me tenderly but I know that you are holding back, controlling yourself. I try to free myself, to move on top of you, but you won’t allow it. I know that my plans for you will have to wait.
You’re lying on top of me, kissing me. You tell me that I’m beautiful, I feel your breath on my neck, hard and hot. You tell me to be quiet, that I must do exactly as I’m told, that you’re going to fuck me.
My breath quickens and I’m aching for you to feel how wet I am. I can almost hear you say “not yet.” Your thigh moves to part my thighs and you tell me to open my legs. I will not, I resist you.
With one hand still holding my wrists, and looking right in to my eyes you move down to kiss my breasts and wanting nipples.
With one sweep of your knee, you spread my legs just enough to get your rock hard thigh against my cunt, you move against me and I move with you.
Your hand glides firmly down, over my stomach to push at the inside of my thigh, opening me to you. At this moment we both feel the power that is between us and you tell me again, this time in a raised voice, “open your legs”. This I do at once. You pull my knickers down and off one leg. They are wet and hanging at my thigh.
My cunt rises up to meet your hand. You moan and slide your fingers in to me. You’re up on your knees, straddling my thigh. I know how wet you are and I move to feel you but you stop me. You say “don’t touch me”.
You fuck me in slow, easy motions, looking at me. In time, you take the vibe from under the pillow and place it expertly on my clit and tell me to be quiet, that you’re going to fuck me harder. And you fuck me harder. I ride you, draw you in to me. You tell me that I’m a whore and I know I’m a whore for you. You tell me that you’re deep inside me, that you can feel all of me, that you love my cunt, that you love fucking me and that I’m yours. And I say fuck me baby, I say you fuck me so good and all the while you are looking in to my eyes and I am transfixed by you, I reach for you and scream, and buck, and come.
Carefully, you leave my cunt, discard the vibe and lie almost on top of me, hold me and kiss me and tell me that I’m beautiful and that you love me.
All I am is the sum of my flesh and blood. Where are my bones? Physically, my presence in the world is notional. All I’m aware of, all I know, is your arms around me and how much I am loved.
Like any city, London can be hard work. I’ve lived here all my life, in fact, I’m an East End girl and proud of it. Sure, I enjoy the freedoms and choices, but sometimes, and increasingly so, I wish I lived in shack on the side of a hill with nothing to worry about except what to do with that last lot of goats milk. Oh heaven!
No rent, banks, credit cards, aggression, car, car tax, parking fines, signs telling you what you can do, signs telling you what you can’t do, dog shit, construction noise, neighbours, yobs, sleeping policemen, economic gloom, paper pushing, tube announcements, people who spit on the pavement, badly behaved children, parents shouting “fucking shut up” at their kids, crowds, bills, traffic, ugliness, Inland Revenue, restricted views and NO hetero-normal stuff! (Not an exhaustive list.)
But of course, I wouldn’t be without P, my friends & family (and their people too)…… oh, and my laptop, a pretty frock and some nice knickers. Just dreaming!
Last week I joined a lesbian erotic writing workshop. I think it’s going to be great fun and I’m looking forward to what it will bring.
Our homework, for presentation at the next workshop, is “a sexual encounter that went wrong”. The tutor had barely stopped talking. I immediately thought about Becky:
I knew Becky when I was 18/19 years old. She was an out lesbian, a few years older than me and a friend of a friend. Becky had her own flat and car and worked for a bank in the City (of London).
Women wearing trousers is frowned on by some City employers even now, but back then, it was generally not allowed, full stop. In the rule book.
So, Becky’s work wardrobe consisted of black, knee length skirts and white shirts.She made no secret of how much she hated these clothes, and was visibly uncomfortable wearing them.
Outside of work Becky didn’t wear “girls” clothes. She never wore make up and kept her hair short. She was solidly built, in to sports and driving her car like the proverbial boy-racer.
When she got home from work she’d immediately change in to something that involved trousers - jeans & a t-shirt maybe. Dressed in her “own” clothes, Becky seemed to magically grow a good few inches taller, and carry herself in a way that, the women around me then, didn’t.
Becky was funny & charming and I liked her a lot. I was (immediately, I think) attracted to her and was always keen to be included in any social activities that involved her.
Although at the time I was in what felt like, and turned out to be, a serious relationship with a man, I flirted with Becky. (That didn’t and doesn’t make me feel good.) And Becky flirted back.
One night, after hanging out with some friends, Becky suggested a 30 mile drive to the coast in her car. What just me & Becky I thought? This late? Yes, please! During the journey the flirting that had started earlier in the evening continued.
When Becky pulled over at our destination, a parking bay on the seafront, I was fraught, excited, nervous and turned on. I put my hand on her thigh.
I can only guess at what Becky was thinking. Probably something like: beware of straight girls messing with you, especially straight girls in a relationship, especially those straight girls in a relationship who are friends of friends.
Anyway, she looked at me, and pausing for a moment said “don’t do that unless you’re serious”.
Oh my god! Well yes, I was serious, but after what seemed like an eternity of mental strain (what if I kiss her / what about the boyfriend / what is happening etc etc) I took my hand away.
The drive back was a pretty quiet affair and I didn’t see Becky much after that.
So that’s my sexual encounter that went wrong! For dramatic effect I could go on to say……”Not just for that evening - for the next 20 odd years!!” But that wouldn’t be truthful because there were other “encounters” before and after the situation with Becky.
I think Becky came to mind immediately because she was butch and if you’ve read my previous posts you’ll know that’s kind of relevant.
I remember what happened with Becky with warmth and affection. I don’t have any regrets about what I should have, or could have done. Even though sometimes I can be quite critical of my choices, generally, I’m proud to own my life exactly as it is.
Well, I’ve entered blog world and it feels good. I did it with some trepidation, as I imagine some bloggers do. What was I worrying about?
Being found out! Someone stumbles across my doodlings and realises it’s me! Well, this stuff can get so personal can’t it? It’d be a bit like someone your diary. But, I DON’T CARE! So, if you’re reading this and think that you know me – hello!
Saying something stupid! But this is my brain on a plate and well, we all make mistakes. I look forward to reading back over my blog, I’m sure I’ll find some stuff that will make me cringe / laugh / blush.
Interestingly, the only worry I didn’t have (or not for long anyway!) was whether or not I’d have anything interesting to say – read in to that what you will!
So far I’ve “met” some great fellow bloggers and only one homophobic fruit. Not bad going in just over a week. Thanks to everyone who’s sent a hand shake across the ether. Think I’ll come here again.
The UKFC2008 was hosted and organised by my very good friend, femmeismygender, and what a blinding job she did too!
There was 100% turnout, great participation in all of the workshops, the venues (seafront and executive lounge) provided a perfect backdrop, the catering was superb and there was plenty of tea. The only hitch was with the sound recording, and as femmeismygender has already said, we won’t be hiring that technician again!
Some feedback from the conference:
The “Norty Stuff” workshop attracted some lively, and quite animated (!) debate. Suffice to say that all attendees were very, very happy with their norty goings on. I’d say more but don’t want to divulge the girls’ latest joys – they can do that for themselves! And generally, do (or are planning to!).
Tea.
Issues with language were discussed. For example, the word “submission” – does it adequately describe what’s happening in BDSM? For dykes? In the butch / femme dynamic? Open question really, and one that will get some further ponderification. Any thoughts?
Tea.
The “femme” and innate or not discussion was fascinating. Is all gender performed? That’s what current theory says. There was some discussion around this – is there more perceived validity in claiming butch rather than femme as innate? If there is, is it about a masculine experience being more identifiable or being seen as more valid? What do you guys think?
Tea.
It was lovely to see Holden, who popped in briefly. (By the way, earlier in the day I had been given – thoughtfully, for seafront sniffles - a top class, pressed, cotton (monogrammed “H”) handkerchief and I’m loath to return it!) I suspect that H’s appearance was brief out of respect for the femme posse & letting them have their space – or was it because there was some pressing post to write? H, you are SO norty!
It’s always lovely to spend time with femmismygender, she’s totally clever and warm and a real light in my life. Thanks for a fab conference femmeismygender, I can’t wait until the next one!!
