Horny Hour #17


Your prompt this week is:

Oestara (Ostara)

Oestara is the Wiccan name for the vernal equinox. The Vernal Equinox is celebrated around the end of the third week of March, somewhere between the 19th and 25th usually. The word “equinox” means “equal night,” which signifies that night and day are equal at this time, with the light of the Sun growing in power toward midsummer. It’s the turning point from winter to spring. It is a beginning of the agricultural year, and its rites ensure fertility of crops and flocks; it is a time of planting, nurturing and growth.

This minor Wiccan Sabbat (there are 4 minor and 4 major sabbats in the wiccan wheel of the year) is named for the Saxon Goddess of Spring, Oestre. There are several different translations of the meaning of her name; East, dawn and morning light indicating the returning warmth of the sun’s rays and the lengthening days. In Germany her warm nature is still marked by bonfires lit at dawn on the Spring Equinox. She is the Maiden Goddess; full of potential, representing the opportunity of growth and rebirth after the stagnation of winter. The Maiden Archetype represents purity and the innocence of childhood, where the soul’s dreams, magic and make believe still prevail. The rabbit was Oestre’s sacred animal, which is where we get the Easter Bunny.

Oestara is a day of celebration because it marks the planting time, when the land is finally ready to be tilled and made fertile with seed for food and cloth. Because eggs are a universal symbol of fertility, it is customary to decorate eggs with spring colours and throw them into running water or bury them in the ground to promote the growth of the crops.

This is my second favourite time of year, my favourite is winter solstice. The promise of longer days and warmer weather is very welcome after the winter. There is also an Easter bunny link with the hare, this time of year is the mating season and they bounce about the fields – Mad as a March hare. They also apparently like to stare at the moon. I did a whole ceramics project on moon gazing hares and another on the Green Man, another supposed fertility symbol whose origins have been lost. I’m hugely fascinated with mythology, folklore and ancient history, especially when it comes to anything Pagan and Celtic pre-Christianity. I can spend hours reading about this stuff -festivals, gods and goddesses, boundaries and edges etc. – but this is the first time I’ve ever tried writing about it. I struggled with this, I don’t have the knack or experience to write this way so it’s not great, but I really couldn’t think of anything else.

She stares at the full moon, bathed in its silvery glow, entranced, unaware she is being watched from the shadows. He wants to approach, but he is a creature of the woods, she belongs to the open fields and hills. He takes a step towards her, hesitates again, unwilling or unable to leave the shelter of the woods. His longing increases by the second, his breathing sounding harsh to his own ears, but still she shows no sign of having heard. It’s been the same every night of the full moon forever, at least it seems like forever to him. Centuries and millennia, she arrives and disappears with the full moon, and he watches, this lithe, fey, silvery creature, never speaking. He wishes she would just turn and see him, come to him, touch him, relieve his longing and loneliness, but all she does is stare at the moon.

She  knows he watches, she can feel him, even from here, as if his strength flows through the very ground she stands on. The smell of the woods surrounds her too, that damp, musky smell, so different from the open air. She feels drawn to him, wanting to go to him, but as yet unable to resist the moon’s glow. She wonders if this time he will wait, if he will still be there when the time comes. Or will it be like all the times before? She knows he can’t leave the woods, and she can’t enter them, but maybe this time he will wait. She hopes.

This is one of those stories I can see in my head but I can’t translate into words. Of course this time he waits and they meet at the edge of the woods, as night turns to day.

I think I’ll stick to writing what I usually write 😀

And here’s a photo of one of my hare sculptures.


More Horny Hour here.

Preserving My Modesty

Ha! It’s a bit late for that 😀

The last day of Monochrome March 😦

It’s been fun and tomorrow sees the start of ‘Arse Appreciation April’ which is going to be so much more difficult for me, but I’m still going to do it!



Kink of the Week #6

I love that so many people have offered to write various prompts for Kink of the Week. It can be tough writing introductions for kinks that are not your own without sounding unsure about your subject matter, so having people willing to share their knowledge/understanding is invaluable and means that we get to cover a wide variety of kinks. This week the prompt is bought to you by Rabbit in Chains who had a couple of suggestions for different topics but in the end settled on trying to tempt you all with this one.

Kink of the Week March 16-31: Kidnapping/Captive

Kidnapped victim for Kink of the Week

Image courtesy of Rabbit in Chains

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to find yourself snatched up unawares? Bound and carried off, finding yourself somewhere unknown, at the whim of a mysterious stranger? Or perhaps it’s not a stranger…but now that they have you, what do they want? What will they do? What will you do?

Kidnapping/Captive fantasies are some of my favorites. It permeates most of my erotic fiction. I love the idea of being taken and being at the mercy of my captor, stripped of all choice and recourse. I find myself pondering what delicious torments they might devise, or perhaps what acts of rebellion I might dare. There are numerous elements of this particular kink to work with. What happens to you when they have you, Do they tie you up? Do they blindfold you? Are they kind and gentle or mean and nasty? Are they a single person or a group?

Have you ever had a kidnapping fantasy? Have you ever played it out in real life? What about it flips your switches? Or does the idea of being kidnapped repulse you? Do you find this kind of play too traumatic to be arousing?

Alternatively maybe you are the kidnapper, the one holding the keys, locking the doors on your captive. What about being in that role works for you. Do you imagine bundling up your unsuspecting victim and carrying them off helpless into your lair? Have you ever acted out a kidnapping fantasy where you are the kidnapper or is it just a fantasy that you like to imagine the what, how, who and where of?

I know this is a bit short but I can’t think of anything I need to add to it 🙂

I have a thing about being kept captive, not so much the kidnapping part, but being kept by someone or a group of someones. It has varied, but I’m always the one there to be used. Sometimes they’re nice, sometimes not, sometimes it’s men or men and women. Sometimes I’m tied and blindfolded, sometimes not. There is such an opportunity for so many variations on this theme that I can change it in any way I want.

It plays on my biggest kink – being used for someone else’s pleasure. And being unable to do anything about it.

More Kink of the Week here.


Making Choices

Word For Wednesday #26


A bit of a ranty one today 😀

My word for this week is Autonomy.

  1. The quality or state of being self-governing;especially the right ofself-government
  2. Self-directing freedom and especially moral independence
  3. A self-governing state

Related to autonomy

Synonyms: accord, free will, choice, self-determination, volition, will.

I’m particularly interested in the second definition – Self-directing freedom and especially moral independence. And the synonyms – choice, self-determination and free will.

This post has been a while in the fermenting and writing stage, I’m still not entirely sure what it is that I want to say so please bear with me.

Over the past few weeks I’ve become increasingly fed up with reading articles and blog posts which try and tell me I’m a bad person for being a sex blogger, for posting naked photos and for having been in a BDSM relationship. I have read that I’m letting women down, I’m not a feminist, I must have something wrong with me, I must have a history of abuse or I have been brainwashed by men because no woman could possibly enjoy the things that I enjoy. That I cannot possibly be choosing to do this.

Towel 2

Taking photos, posting them and writing are things I choose to do.

And there’s also the slut-shaming, body-shaming and just general trollish nastiness some people have to put up with. Thankfully I haven’t yet had to deal with it, but no doubt at some point someone, somewhere will object to me. From Kim Kardashian’s naked selfie, Zoella’s ‘racy’ photo (she was wearing clothes FFS) to Holly Brockwell’s experience of wanting to be sterilised. It is nice to see that even if there are a lot of stupid, judgemental people out there, there is also a lot of support for these and other women.

But the double standards about what it’s OK to do are ridiculous.

And do you know what I have to say about that?


I’m also fed up of the general shit so many people have to put up with if they don’t fit society’s norms.

I’m going to be writing a series of posts on these subjects and a couple of other issues, in particular the treatment of women in Ireland, because they are things that are making me angry. I can’t cover everything in one post – it would be far too long and confusing.

More Word For Wednesday here.


Wicked Wednesday #25

Prompt #200 – The Best.

This post was inspired in part by this post by @CharlieInThe.

I was going to post this for Sinful Sunday but it got a bit wordy so I decided to keep it for a different day. Also I found out WP are back to deleting blogs with adult content just when I had decided to stay with this blog. Starting this blog has been one of the best decisions I ever made.

This post was written prior to that.

This last week has been strange, having to adjust to a new phase, a new stage on my journey. I was thinking about starting a new blog, a fresh start, no memories. But to be honest I don’t have any bad memories, and, like everything else that’s happened in my life, it’s a part of me. There is no Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. What happened, stays happened. I’ve had the usual ‘What’s wrong with me?’ conversation in my head, but this time it was different. I realised there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with me. Which is a massive step for me (I would say there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with any of us, but there are some people who, for whatever reason, do have something wrong with them, I’ve known a couple). We are who we are. Genetics, life experience, family, friends etc. etc. all go towards making us who we are. And I have to say that the last year has gone a long way to improving my relationship and attitude towards myself and my life. How could I want to forget that?

I’ve become much more accepting of me, I’ve gotten help for my depression and anxiety, I’m more forthcoming about my illness with my friends and family which in turn has helped them be more understanding of my little quirks. I’m no longer so worried about sharing some of the crap in my head.

When it comes to my feelings about my body it gets a little more complicated. I’ve never really been body positive, I’ve never really liked my body – ever. Too short, too chubby, too saggy, stretch marks and all the rest of it. I suppose I’m lucky in that I’ve never really had to worry about what I eat and I’ve never done any serious exercise. Most of which is down to having spent all my life raising kids on a limited income – I never had the energy to exercise and was more concerned with trying to be able to feed everybody reasonably healthy meals as cheaply as possible. There have been times in my life when I lived on toast and tea so they could eat. When you live like that for a long time worrying about how you look just isn’t a priority. I did have a real breakthrough though about ten years ago, I’d ended my relationship and I learned to love my boobs, I loved my cleavage, I’d always wear something that showed it off. I was the happiest I’d been about my body. And when I started going out I found out that people found me attractive, sexy, beautiful. I had a really great couple of years. Then it all went wrong. I had a miscarriage that almost killed me (I didn’t even realise I was pregnant), the depression really kicked in, a few months after that I fell pregnant again, just before I turned 40 (you think I’d know better). Stupid drunken decision whilst waiting for the right day to start my contraception. Things went rapidly downhill until the following Christmas when I finally took responsibility for me and stopped blaming everyone else.

The last eight years have been a struggle sometimes but I’m getting there. And a big part of that has been down to this blog, the community I’ve found, the support and positivity is incredible. I know I’ve said this before but I never would have thought I’d be happy taking nekkid photos of myself, never mind posting them online, but most of the time I love it. The hardest thing is usually coming up with new ideas. I’m kind of limited as to where I can take photos which restricts some of the ideas I have, sometimes the shots just don’t turn out as I want. Other times when I flick through ones I don’t like and then edit them I actually get some really good ones. And all of it usually helps me feel better about myself, so I’m sticking with this blog (I think it could get too confusing if I started a new one and I don’t want to have to make you all follow me again 😀 ) and I’m going to keep doing what I do.

Just me 3

More Wicked Wednesday here.




…in everyday language refers to a sense of harmonious and beautiful proportion and balance.


Masturbation Monday #17

This was this weeks prompt

Masturbation Monday: Week 82

He marvels at her as she lays on the bed, runs his hands down her body and spreads her legs to kneel between them. She protests as he lowers his head, running his tongue between her lips, he knows he simply has to hold her there and she’ll melt against him. She moans as he continues, tasting her, licking, sucking. He slides a finger inside, two, she moans again, pushing against his mouth now, wanting more but he stops and now her moan is one of loss and frustration. He lies beside her, head to tail and pushes his fingers back inside as she takes hold of his cock and strokes him, lightly, squeezing gently. His moans match hers now as her hand tightens, her back arching off the bed as he finds that sweet spot inside her. He is struck by the symmetry then, their positions, their noises, the way her cunt and hand tighten at the same time. She takes him in her mouth and the sound of her pleasure at the taste of him makes him even harder. He slides his fingers deeper inside as she takes him deeper, deeper, until he is lost in the feel of her mouth and throat. His moves his hips and hand at the same speed, slow and deep. She is the yin to his yang he thinks as she gushes over his hand at the same time as he does in her throat.

More Masturbation Monday here.