Underwear mining

I do.
I really enjoy wearing my underwear. Choosing it is a totally different matter, instead.
The mere fact that I can't simply pick a bunch of pants, tangas, coulotte, garter, suspenders, bodysuit, baby doll... and head towards the changing room to try them all, one at a time, it really makes everything more complicated.

I have to leverage my imagination, try and foresee what would suit my shapes better. Thin strings, or large ones? More or less tissue? To cover or to unveil?

In the sales season, you can happen to find large boxes with many pants in it, and you only need to go and find yourself the one you like most.
Or you think you'll like most, in my case.

I tend not to go for too much fancy garments. I like the simple line of some brasilian tanga, when they are soft and do wear my butt fine.

I'm sometimes split between choosing "my style" or to explore new ways. And I sometimes wonder: would them be more feminine, in look? Would they still suit me? Or wouldn't it just clearly show how unfamiliar my body is with such garments? Although half of my soul looks at them as theirs?

She once said she would want to buy me a lace baby doll.
I still wonder how I would really look like in it.

Butt plug meditation

I wouldn't have said that, beforehand, but having tried it yesterday evening, I can now say that a a 7" by 3" butt plug really fits lovely into my butt, during the meditation exercises, sat on the ground, next to the fireplace, at night, alone in the house.

At the beginning it sure was hard, it made focusing really hard, mind had a really hard time moving from the inner meat pulsing around the plug, and was desperately whining "more! more!", and it is no surprise that now that I recollect those moment I write of "hard-ness" so much. Any movement enhanced such feeling, and I was rumbling like the lake when the wind sweeps it hard and waves hit the old stone houses on its shores.
But then, slowly, while conscious feelings were tamed by just  letting them flow away as the river does, watching them to flow as the ferryman does, then I could focus on my breath flowing as well, at regular pace, in and out of my nostrils, and thoughts gently started to fade away.
Physical feeling of the plug inside me stayed, instead, and I could perceive it inside me, yet it was not anymore just inside me, but rather it was me to contain it.

This was when I started to tremble and shiver as if there were a 10 sq ft earthquake, just where I was sat.

Pleasant. Indeed.

Love and sex. Sex with love.

"I make love with you, only sex with all the others".
An unrequested answer to an unexpressed question, following a 45' hot yet sweet sex session at "his place", just caught me by surprise.

I like him. Is far more a decent lover than the average ones you find on the web, in spas or at clubs. And also a far more decent person than the one you find around. Not to mention his thick dick. If he only would take more care of his muscles and of his attire... I think it would be hard to stay away from his bed, or to get in the queue to get into it.

This post title was meant to be "the appetizers is served", 'cause I meant M to be it, for the big night with the swiss guys.
Instead it had been a great time, and a great pleasure. M is the kind of man who focus on giving pleasure or better, we have that kind of relation where he feels he gets enough pleasure from my body, from the way I make sex to him, from the way I kiss him, I suck him, I caress him, I lie at his command, in his arms, or craving to reach his body.
He undressed me slowly and gently, and did kindly ask me if I wanted to have him in me, something I actually was eagerly waiting for.
I like - I would say: I love - how he have me laid on the bed, by a gentle push of my shoulder I lie as a child would do, my eyes on him, he turns me around and gets his hands on my hips and lift me enough so to slid his lovely, straight, pointed, thick cock into that small little, lusty, greedy opening of mine... and despite M looking physically weak, his touch is secure and his hold is firm when he gets inside me.
Most of the rest of the intercourse is acted by that greedy little slut that lies beneath my butt; it squeezes it, rock it and one would say it almost... fuck herself by her own. M loves it. And I love it because he let her do it while he simply lie down, on me, with all of his body, his legs interwined with mine, and his arms hold me strong by the shoulder, keeping me still in a strong, heavy, warm hug that circles me top and bottom, in and out and make me numb with pleasure while the little slut makes his cum, before she starts to make my body tremble in an overwhelming climax.




I suppose that's why I had chosen him, as the appetizers, amongst other possible "local" lovers... ;)

Greedy...

I feel greedy today.
And I think I'll have my lust satisfied, before morning comes...

I'm wearing a sexy, sissy, black satin low waist panty that fits wonderfully on my firm butt under my nicest "no-hiding-it" trousers, and a lycra, black, no sleeves vest that just ends before the panty, under my shirt: a sexy mix that says it all, only concealed by a long, black leather coat that gives me a Matrix look.

I'm at it!

New Year's tradition, recently discovered

I have only very recently been told why girls are gifted a hot red pants for New Year's night; it has to do with superstition, or tradition if you like it.
It is, in fact, meant as a way to attract good opportunities and adventures and even happiness, by wearing them at New Year's night; and that's why they are often given to the poor gal at Xmas, thus making her flush and turn a same shade of red.

I'm not that much shy, though...


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