|This is the image Mrs Fever used to illustrate her blog post (see that link below)|
It's a self portrait by Molly Moore © and you can find more of her photos here.
So here we go, in no particular order:
Mrs Fever - 'Temperatures Rising' ~ "Porn-NO: An Exploration of Erotic Imagery"
I recently asked Twitter what they thought about the images I used to illustrate my posts, since they are mostly NSFW - and some are more pornographic than erotic. Mrs Fever was one of many who answered (here) and that led me to her excellent post on the subject on her blog:
When I think of pornography, what comes to mind is explicit visual depictions of penetrative sex acts: disembodied genitals, objectification of the individual, baseness/crassness… Basically, graphic displays of sexual aggression.
And while I know it can be argued that porn comes in multiple forms, the word is associative for me, and is specific to images. Pictures. Moving pictures, especially. Watching a pornographic film is, to me, about as uplifting an experience as watching a slug crawl through the freshly turned dirt in my rose garden.
Images of my lover, often sent without seductive intent, will sometimes spark a low flame that accelerates a heat in me. A picture of his smooth-shaven skin will call to mind one of our rituals. His lips, bowed into a kiss....
M probably needs no introduction since her blog is award winning and already well known. She writes great posts, and the title of this one reeled me in. This is just a small teaser excerpt of a more detailed exposition:
I am incredibly lucky that I orgasm easily, it lends itself to how greedy, how needy I can be. The first orgasm is the longest work and hardest to maintain – it is also often the weakest. All it does is feed my craving for another. My body is tenser, tighter, wanting and willing to work towards the second orgasm – which is always just on the horizon, easy to view and not hard to slide into.
The catch, of course, is that the second orgasm makes it easier to come harder and faster. And the third makes me far more greedy than the first. On and on my body goes, wanting the next – it’s not always that the subsequent ones are harder nor even better, fireworks do not suddenly explode in orgasm splendor; but the more that I orgasm, the easier it is for me to reach another one. When every nerve is sensitive and feels pleasurable, it’s a challenge to not pursue that pleasure... [continued]
I discovered Ancilla via the TMI Tuesday blog. She is an owned slave, married to her Master. Her lifestyle is completely foreign to me and some of the stuff they do is well beyond me but I always find her blog fascinating. Not my kink, but worth a read:
Pulling weeds in the heat of the sun, my cunt still sore from being used roughly earlier that warm Sunday morning, I crawled across the sandy soil, careful over the spiny pumpkin vines, plucking out the long grasses from among them. Master worked several feet away from me in his own patch of weedy vines.
"Pull up your shirt while you work so I can see your tits" he ordered. I lifted my shirt, freeing them, since I hadn't put on a bra that day. I attempted to tuck the shirt around in a knot so it would stay up even when I went back to crawling, but it would only stay for a short time and then I'd have to re-tuck it to give Master the view he wanted.
He came up to me, stood in front of me, and asked if I wanted a taste. Of course I did.
He unzipped his shorts and took out his cock. I eagerly took him in my mouth. That didn't last long before he turned me around, told me to get on all fours and jerked at my shorts. I helped slide them down in front. His cock slid into my aching wet hole. Soon he pulled me to stand up and ordered me to grab the corner post of the garden fence. I gripped rough wood in both hands as he entered me again...