~ Setting things on fire. Mostly words ~

~ Often speaking in tongues ~

~ to Each Other ~


Wednesday 30 January 2013

Maid for You


Had the most delicious orgasm last night thinking AGAIN of you, me and Hugh Bonneville in a sandwich.   Hilarious is that I can never get past thinking he's probably got a very small willy compared to yours so no matter what I do I can only see a normal sized one for him.   
You were both wearing the evening dinner suits like in this photo.  OMGuh. 


               I'd gone into the library to bring you your after dinner port.  You and he were standing near the fireplace having a cigar.   
I am a servant in black and white dress and stockings. I brought the tray in and as I did so Hugh shut and locked us all in the library.  
Can you smell the leather-bound books and the fire blazing?







You give him a knowing look and both come close to me as I pour the port.  Suddenly you reach out and firmly grab hold of my right breast as I'm bending over the glasses.  You just hold it there a second.  I start in surprise and stand stock-still.  
I can’t believe this is happening.  
But you slowly and expertly begin to knead my tit and we can both feel it warm and swell under your careful hand.   

I shut my eyes and you stand behind me.  You put both arms around me from behind and cup both of my breasts in your hands.  Squeezing them.  Kneading them gently, and when you think I'm ready you run your fingers over my hardening nipples as you squeeze.   My eyes are still shut and a small moan escapes my mouth.  
You look over to Hugh and nod.

He stands in front of me and slowly unbuttons the front of my black dress until you can both see what it looks like as you squeeze my tits inside of my black brassiere.  If I had my eyes open, I’d see that the sight has made both your mouths a darkened shade of red.  

Hugh puts his fingers down the front of my brassiere and gently pulls it down and away from my tits.  Now you are squeezing and kneading them in the firelight.  Their dark chocolate points responding to the heat of your hands, the smell of cigar as your breath fills the small space at the back of my neck and hairline.   Hugh dips his fingers in the port and slowly paints my nipples one at a time till they are glossy with port.   You then cup my tits as hard as you can and offer them up to Hugh.   He bends down.

He takes a rosy cherry in his mouth and with cupped tongue firmly but gently sucks the port off of my tit.  

He invites you to do the same.  
You stand in front of me, paint me with port, you grab my face in one of your large hands and bid me look down as you envelope my other nipple in your mouth.  
You haven’t lost a locked eye contact as you do so.  You want to see my face as you suck and knead my tit with your mouth and your tongue.   
I can’t say anything!  I am wide-eyed, dumbstruck and my pussy turns to pools of liquid heat with every little tug and tonguing.    
Hugh just stands back a little, watching you and unconsciously rubbing the front of his trousers at the sight.  

Oh.  My.  God.   

What do you want from me??!



               Then you get down on your knees and lift my skirt to waist-high.  I’ve got on black thigh stockings with my sensible shoes.  You’d wondered if I didn't have some kind of naughty streak because of the way you've caught me glancing at you when you've been here before for dinner, but now you know for certain!

You run your hands up and against the outside of my legs, from ankle to hips.  I'm standing with legs together.  This matters not.  You put your hands on either side of my hips and run your thumbs from the waistband of my black cotton knickers, down the middle, brushing your thumbs slowly and firmly over my mount of Venus   Then you stop just at the top of my clitoris, but not directly on it.   From the outside of my panties you push your thumbs inward to indent my tender flesh and you just hold it there.

By now my heart is beating in my ears and my pussy’s got very wet.   I look over to Hugh, who has unzippered his trousers and I can see that he likes very much what you’re doing.   Almost unconsciously he takes out a camera, sets it up as though in a dream and begins to take dreaming photos of what he sees.



Pushing in on the top of my pussy from the outside of my panties you lean forward,  grip my hips hard.  So hard it hurts me, then you press your wet tongue against my sex.  Holding your tongue against my mound and clit.  Just holding it there until I think I shall die.  I motion to press my sex against your mouth but you hold fast my hips and I cannot.   I can’t do anything, but wait.   I shut my eyes and I feel the pressure of your tongue against me held still and firm.  Then I realise I can feel your oh so warm saliva as it slides down your tongue and onto my helpless pussy.   As it does you slowly begin to vibrate your tongue as my panties pool with your hot spit.     I gasp as the small tremors rip up my cunt and my spine, making me feel like I have no legs at all.  They’re like jelly and I feel like my pussy is melting into your face.  

Mentally I'm begging you to lick me.  Pull my panties aside.  Anything!  But you continue to press the whole of your flattened tongue against my pussy as you press and vibrate it with your timbered moans.  I can feel your hot breath on the tops of my thighs as it commingles with the dew from your mouth.   I can feel my pussy engorge in a maddening way under your tongue.  I'm embarrassed.  I don’t know what to do.  What should I do?  It’s all clearly too late to protest.      Ah well.  In for a penny, in for a pound I think.

There’s a desk in the library.  Fitted with stationary.  Fitted with scissors.  You get up and take the scissors, bringing them back to me.   You kneel down again and watch my face as you cut off my panties.  Leaving me there with my black skirt I'm holding at my waist, and the thigh high black stockings in sensible shoes.   Ever the faithful servant I stand, thatch of black pussy glistening in our juices by firelight.    

Hugh walks over to the gramophone and puts on a classical piece.  That should take care of any troublesome noises.

He takes me by the hand and leads me over to the long red leather couch and silently sits me down.    He stands behind the couch and me.  He reaches down and cups my tits just the way you did, only now a little more roughly as his member unconsciously rubs against the leather.   He looks up at you, entreatingly.   This is a game you and he know well, and it’s your move.

You come to stand in front of me.   You look even taller, more imposing with your black and white stiffness.   You slowly unzip the front of your trousers, opening their front to reveal a partly hard, partly plump erection.   I cannot take my eyes off of it!    I am shocked.  It stands at attention and commands attention in its rosy cream whiteness set against the black coal of your trousers.

Almost immediately I can smell your lazy desire.   Lazy, calm, cool, unhurried.  In command.

You smell to me of my favourite scent in a man, sex that smells like hot biscuits from the oven.  Hot, slightly sweet and savoury starchiness.     Oh.   My.   God.

Hugh reaches around behind him and brings forth a small beautiful Art Deco bottle.  But it’s not filled with perfume.  It’s filled with almond oil, infused with soft aromatic white musk.  

From behind me on the couch he leans down and kneads and covers my tits with the oil until they glisten.  I shut my eyes, throw my head back, caught in its wild aphrodisiac scent.

Then you kneel on the couch, straddling each thigh about my hips.   Hugh squeezes my wet tits hard and holds them in vice.   You lean over, putting one hand on the top of each of my shoulders.   Then you stroke your shaft upwards against my tits.  Then down again on them.  And as you do your cock grows harder than the appetizer piqued plump you had before.   And there you are, stroking your cock up and down my tits, causing a warm wave of electricity through my hard cherry nipples.   Up and down.  Up and down.   Twisting your hips now, side to side until I can’t breathe.   “Breathe” you say, ‘breathe!”    Hugh suddenly squeezes my tits together around your cock.  Tight enough for a slippery tit fuck.   Ah and you feel soooo good there.  

So so good.  Making me crazed as I see your purple tip appearing and appearing at the top of my breasts.  I can’t help it, as it comes up again making it’s welcome appearance I bend my head to lick what I see.  Trying to grasp the very end in my hot mouth.     Oh  you like it,  you like it just fine and you show me by your hard ragged breathing and by the way you grind your cock against my chest as you force your cock up and down between my tits.  

I see your pre-cum and I take my little hand and scoop a little up, to bring it down and anoint with each of my hands my cherry nipples with your white cream.  Rubbing it in circles then twisting them as you grind into me.

Then suddenly you pull away.  I am distraught!  I could have cum from that alone, but you won’t let me.

You stand there wild of eye and hard hard hard of cock.  Small beads of moisture anoint the top of your lip.   Then before I can think twice, you and Hugh quickly take off your clothing.  All of it.   I grip the sides of the couch, wondering what in hell comes next.

You take my hand and stand me up.  You both take off my garments, piece by piece.  You each take off my shoes but you leave the stockings on.    Oh my god I don’t know what you’re going to do to me, but whatever you want, I'm going to do it!     I am so wet by now the insides of my thighs bear the sticky moisture you have created.
You take my hand and lift me up onto the rounded back of the leather couch.  You make me straddle it, then lay me down, my breasts crushed against the warm leather.  Legs astride the back of the couch, I lay me down my head and shut my eyes.



Hugh stands at the back of the couch, hips aligned with my head.   You watch as he jerks my head backwards between his two hands and commands me to open my mouth.   I open it without argument.  He presses his hot short member into my mouth.  It’s like a hot sweet soother to a baby.  It tastes of honey and gentlemen’s port.  It feels good and fits my compact mouth.  I shut my eyes as he lets go my head and I lay it down upon the leather and begin to suck his cock, as though in a dream.   A dream we shall never speak of again (but one which will haunt my fevered hands on late nights to come in the servant’s quarters).

I am moaning as I suck an entreaty of his cum to my mouth.  Unconsciously I twist my hips on the couch and begin to move my body up and down against the leather top.  Loving the friction of it against the whole front of my body.  Neck to knees.  I grip either side of the couch with my hands as I suck him, gripped myself in some mania.   I forget myself and begin to press my wet clit and pussy against the leather.   It feels soooooo good, nipple and clit connecting with the leather.  Dick in my mouth, plumping and wetting.

Now.  Now you’re ready.  All this while you've been watching the bacchanal scene, but not with detachment.   Your eyes have been trained on the slow moving curve of my ass and my hips.  On the moments where a twist of the hips reveals to you my rosy chambers for your eyes only.    Suddenly, you stand and straddle both me and the couch from behind me.  When a rosy twist makes evident my wet snatch, your opportunistic cock makes its mark.   You softly but firmly fill my wet cunt, slowly slowly until I can feel your heat and tip press in shock against my very hilt.  

I open my eyes in surprise and moan in delight.   Oh my god you feel amazing!   I want you to push that cock up and against my hilt again!    Using the back of the couch I fortify myself while I push your cock back up my tender cunt.   Because you’re half standing half straddling the couch you can watch as you slowly bury your full meat into my angry cunt.   I want more.   And as I want more I begin to suck harder on Hugh and rise up on my arms, bent at the waist.  Hugh must up and kneel to straddle the couch or lose my mouth hold.   As I rise up on my forearms my full tits appear once again.   A delighted Hugh cups them in his hands and twists my nipples as I suck his dick.

You push his hands away to cup one yourself.  You squeeze it as you embed your fiery member, driving it driving it into my cunt.  As far as you can as high as you can, till it hurts me.   In an effort to slow you I grasp your cock with my cunt as only a lady knows how (or a well versed slut does) and you gasp not a little at the strength of my pussy.    You think it feels like an angry mouth, sucking and swallowing your hot prick.   You’re a tease and you pull out just when I think I have you.   You pull out and punish me with hard slaps to my ass with your wet cock.    I whimper and wiggle my ass as near silent begging.

I loose my mouth turn my head and beg you, “Fuck me Nicimos!  Fuck me!!”  But instead you pull me off the couch, drag me down to the animal skin carpet and push me down on my back in front of that roaring fire.   I am crazed by the hot scents of sweet port, white musk, the vibrant sex of two men wet for me and the escalating rhythms from the gramophone.    I am in anguish!    Do something!  Do something!  Do something!

Hugh kneels over my body and pours the remainder of the oil from neck to knee.   Then you both are suddenly kneeling beside me over me, pushing your cocks all over my prone body.   I feel your cocks on my tits, on my slick waist, between my thighs, I catch a sharp point against my pussy as you pull open my legs and momentarily fuck me with your oiled prick.   But only momentarily before you’re driving that cock against my tits, into my mouth.  I try to suck it but manage only a few mouthy grasps and you’re gone again.    You’re both fucking and fucking and fucking every part of my skin.  Every part of my bone.   Neck to knee.    I am on fire.        I begin to finger myself furiously until Hugh grabs my wrists and holds them above me over my head.   He pins down my slick wrists.   His face has a wild anger and he grits his teeth as he holds them there.   His cock is hard and furious at attention as he kneels beside my head.  

He looks up at you and nods.   You nod back,    You've been clambering over and around me, fucking me senseless from head to toe.   Fucking against my oiled feet.  Then you suddenly climb up my body while Hugh holds my wrists hard.  He’s hurting me but I don’t care!    You roughly push my legs wide open with your knees.   Then you shove your cock into my spread open cunt, one, two, three strokes – pull out and cum all over my oiled body.   I can feel the large hot drops of your jizz over my shiny tits.  I feel them on my neck.  I feel them on my waist.  I feel you dripping onto my open cunt as you pull on your cock to spend ever last drop onto me.    And as the last hot drops slide down my pussy, I wrest my hand from Hugh, he shoves his cock in my mouth.  I suck it suck it suck it quickly as I come cum cum from finger stroking my clit into the double cream you've left there.    He comes in violent heaving waves

But I don’t see his face.  
I am looking into your beautiful peaceful blue eyes as I reach those heights you have taken me to.   
I cry out, but it’s your name that I do.  

I then slowly get up.  I take you both by the hand and lead you to an upstairs bathroom.  We fill a large warm, soapy bath.  We get all in and I take turns washing you fresh and fragrant and warm as small boys.  Of course this tale does not end here, but is continued behind closed doors.  







Monday 28 January 2013

My Favourite Priest

On Friday,January 25, 2013, @nicimos_ wrote:

Check out this video on Via me:


Sent from my iPhone
~~~

On 2013-01-25, at 2:28 PM, Nicimos > wrote:
Haha that is quite a gait. Love how you kind of held back to get the full effect. 
He reminds me of the priest from the exorcist. Maybe its the hat. 
Either way you're still a funny funny fucker 
xxx
Ps it says on Via me 'flag as inappropriate'
 ... Nah 
~~~

On Friday,January 25, 2013, @nicimos_ wrote:
What in the hell??  I was thinking the very same thing!!   Jesus!

Sent from my iPhone
~~~

On 2013-01-26, at 5:30 AM, Nicimos > wrote:
Were you really? I mean of all the things I could have said?! 
That's purdy awesome  xxx
~~~

On Saturday,January 26, 2013, @nicimos_ wrote:
I am so not kidding. 
Those were my first thoughts moments after dogging his steps (literally).  Instant arousal at 'oh doesn't he resemble the exorcist priest'?   Then as I got closer and could see the side of his face and his specs the imagination and arousal jumped ten fold when I saw he resembled you. The combination thereof made me record him. He was just too much awesomeness in one dark coat to not do so.      
It is puzzling. This. I smiled to read your response.had thought, well he was thinking the same thing most likely because we share asimilar sense of dark humour.  We really are similar in outlook about a lot of things. I assumed that was why the connect.  But then u thought the same ... What exactly were the chances of us both hitting on the same character?   Perhaps the answer lies safely somewhere in between the natural and the 'unnatural'.   xxx

Sent from my iPhone
~~~


On 2013-01-26, at 9:54 AM, Nicimos > wrote:
Hello my darling. I think you sum it up very well (as usual) with somewhere between the natural and the unnatural....
Mind you, I know you have a history of having a thing for priests. I remember that time I was at____  and I said I was sleeping in a room with ____'s cassocks hanging up in there. 

I also remember you getting a little heated at the thought of it.  Next time I'm up there, I'll try and get a pic of me wearing a cassock for you? 

Just thought.  Dunno what's worse - _______ catching me wearing stockings or his cassock. Or both?

As you say'y'got some 'splainin' there, boy'

Gee that might be one for the spank bank ; )

Amen xxx
~~~


On Saturday,January 26, 2013, @nicimos_ wrote:

Oh my god it's already there and banked. I just have to cash it in.  The idea of you sitting wherever in cassocks is so delectably piquant.  But, then the priest slowly slowly pulls up the front to reveal black or white stockings ... 

BANG

That's the sound of my head being blown clear off its hinges.   Oh my god I wouldn't think twice about paying you to do this.  Though paying would add an even stranger piquancy to this heady mix. 

Oh dear.  Someone's learning how to push my buttons ; )

Fuck I'm in love with you!

Sent from my iPhone
~~~

On 2013-01-26, at 4:38 PM, Nicimos > wrote:
I'm sitting in your coffee shop reading the church times newspaper.  You come in and don't spot me at first.  I'm wearing a black cassock with black shirt and white clerical collar.  I have black lace up shoes and the cassock reaches the floor.  It is _____’s and has red buttons down the front. I'm drinking a large espresso. 

You come over and say hello when you see it's me.  You put your hand on my knee and slip your fingers inside the buttons of my cassock and feel the smooth texture of black stockings beneath.  I cross my legs to try and conceal a hard on but you've already sensed it.  You've seen it in my eyes.  Nothing is said.
We stand up to leave, I fold my paper and we walk towards your car parked outside. You're surprised at how tall this priest is.
In the front seat, I pull up my cassock and unbutton it slowly, revealing my long hard dick under the black gossamer of the tights.  I pull the top of the tights down and let my cock spring into your ready, wet mouth.  I smell of English cologne and sex.  You pull and flick me quickly to orgasm and as I cum you let my holy water spatter your face.  The moans and sharp sighs of my breathing are in perfect time as I jerk my cock again as my spooge pings out at you. 

There is no charge for this 'ecclesiastical call' and we drive to your home, where we fall into bed and fuck the day away under the duvet. 

How does that sound to you? 

And yes, you might have guessed - I'm more than a little in love with you too xxx

~~~

On Monday, January 28, 2013, @nicimos_ wrote:

Nicimos.  How do you do it?   You turn me on so ferociously with your filthy talk and make my heart beat at the same time.    Is it because I can see your face and I know it’s arousal like the back of my hand?   Of course I can see arousal on your face.   And even more so the way your eyes partly close just so when what’s in your mind connects with your cock.

I read what you just wrote there and my nipples got instantly hard going where you go – in the way that only you inspire.   My imagination is a palpable one.   We WERE in my coffee shop.   The one I go to most Saturday afternoons.  

You were THERE.    Every moment of that was so real I could feel the steam on the inside of the car window.   I could see the street lamps and the darkness.   I could hear the way your breath changes when you begin to let yourself go.   I could smell your hot spunk and feel it warm my face and mouth.   Shocking like a hot rain.  
Oh my darling that was exquisite.  I lived and loved those moments. 

Your hot cock suddenly escaping from those black tights?   Oh my fucking Christ.  
I want you now,upon that bed, pushed down hard. Me pulling those tights down your hips to just above your knees.  I barely had time to flick on the bedside lamp before clamping my mouth again round your sticky hot cock.   Still wet from the suck in the car. 

Licking up and down your shaft now, avoiding your purple quivering tip, silently begging to be full-tongue lapped.    Pinning your wrists to the bed.  You want to pull my head up to your throbbing tip, but I'm not going to go there yet. You can't help it and you keep trying.  This has got to stop!

I'm up on my knees in a flash, tying your wrists to the bedposts.

            Oh fuck it!   I can’t handle this!     Tell you what; let’s now go back to a little something old, a little something new, and a little somethings borrowed and, er ~ a little something blue …. for my favourite priest  xxx

Can be viewed in the box below - or by selecting the lovely Daily Motion link below:

http://www.dailymotion.com/video/xx30ie_my-priest_sexy


Update Jan 28/12:   DENIED!  
Oh my jeez that's hilarious.  The little vid I made for you was rejected on Daily Motion.   Bastards!   Never mind.  I still have it on Youtube.  I might link it.  I might not.  Look at this darling, at least a few peeps got to see it before it got slammed shut tighter than a nun's drawers.   Haha!  

Apparently I'm not the only one with a thing for priests  ; )

Never mind, it can still be viewed in as attached below.   It is NSFW:




Saturday 26 January 2013

Familiar Spirit




You're always welcome in my dreams. You've become a Strange but comforting Familiar there ...




I loved fantastic tales as a small child.  I still do.  But if you could have sat down my eight year old self and told her that one day when she grew up she'd have her own familiar spirit, one that camps at the base of her soul ....   Well, she probably would have believed you and would have wished away her youth waiting on such an adventure.

Back then books were alive and she ran down rabbit holes and rode the back of the north wind like any cognizant Victorian child.   She'd not yet learned limitations of wonder.  Not yet.

And So ~ here You are.  You are like a familiar.  The Sorceresses familiar.  You come and go inside of me on velvet cat paws.   You move so dreamy through my dreams, that we very often don't realise it's happening, until we wake and compare notes.

          It's like being very high and comparing trips when the drugs have settled down into the corners of your mind and bleed out into the daylight until they are gone.   These trips leave little mementoes, to remind you where your spirit went, hookah in hand.    And the stories are funny, sometimes seem completely senseless, but we listen a little more closely to the symbolism when once we find that these 'trips' were never actually alone.

There's something significant here.   Something I never want to lose to ingratitude.  Something I sketch fast in my memory, for the day I'll shake my head that such of a thing could ever have happened.   It is ridiculous to even imagine it would ever be possible to forget these moments with you.  Yet still I strive to etch as many of our encounters into my fabric, so the life will come again and again I will know you as I do now.

         Was meditatively preparing a meal tonight.  Can barely recall what or how.  My hands were on my counters, appearing vacant, but my minds eye was full of you.

          I shook my head and smiled.   How did you become such a fixture in my life so quickly?   The little girl became rather a hermit.   A solitary soul.   How then

                            did you enter this world of mine so easily when my life has been arch to maintain my solace?    How so could you walk further into my life than anyone I've ever let past that garden gate?   Like this was not the most unheard of thing in this 2013 world.

I guess it is rather simple.  Isn't it?   

The first time I realised you close inside, was the dream I'd had of two children in a garden.   Remember you were huffy that I was in your garden, a visitor?    But then we began to watch and observe the growing things.   We began to share the strange wonders of this place we both had come to.  



And like Gerda in the garden of the Old Sorceress, 
she became drowsy and it soon became so very natural that flowers have small warm faces and talk and talk and talk to her. 



It was maybe like that.  

And maybe it was like the eight year old reading reading and reading in the library.   Maybe it was Alice in Wonderland, At the Back of the North Wind and the Snow Queen that set this ball in motion.    Unwitting, I gave myself the language I'd need for the day we'd meet.   I took photographs of these planes of imagination and tucked them away with love.   Sealed with an envelope of keys, marked yours, and mine.

At the Back of the North Wind ~ George MacDonald 1868 

And now, I pull out the photographs of You taken these last many months.  How similar they are to the imagination of a few good Victorian dreamers we know of.  Authors.   These photos now developed within the frames of today, they depict what happened when you were inside of me.   Talking about god knows what at god knows when it's become those hours between hours.  

In between daylight resistance and night calm you've touched me.  A sexual touch, but not in the places anyone's ever pressed palm to me before.  Your finger-snap and I am lit in an instant, as never before, from the outside in.

And maybe that's the whole purpose of this incredible geographical distance.  To learn, by experience, that the parameters we took on as we left our childhoods, were more the rote of our science, but not the scope of our dreaming being.

          One of us begins and dreams one day, and the other joins the dream sometimes days hence.    If you're in them, I hold on gently to my pieces whether they make sense or not because I've come to know I've parts of the same puzzle.   And sometimes they cannot make sense until I see you have followed.  Backed into the same party.   One of comes with music, the other having carried it's lyrics.    Sometimes we just don't even know what we've got, until we compare notes.

The thing I care most about is what you feel like there.  Inside of me. The thing I care most about is how you feel when I step inside of you.

"There" wherever "there" is, the span of sun to moon to sun again begins to become an unquestioned part of these conversations and loving between layers of skin, spirit.  Latitudes and longitudes.   Talking in and out of hours through rivulets of time that quiet creep and quiet conspire to throw us together.

Bone in or bone out of body we travel.  But as we do begin to lose that sense of "well, you joined my dream"  or, "ah, this time I've joined yours."   These structures that hold up our connections don't seem to matter much any-more to me.    I just find peace in your oft-present company.   A familiar spirit who rides within.

Others in their right mind would do well to wonder what dark art conjured such a realm.  Might fear.

And though at first it was terrifying to me to find myself inside of you by the same token I walk my way through your blue walls, my fear's replaced with the quiet peace I remembered in the attic where Gerda and her Kay loved (before he got the glass splinter in his eye and lodged in his heart, and forgot her).  

The Snow Queen is the most erotic children's story I have ever read. 

If you read it some day you'll recognise our quiet moments in love and lust in the stamp and ink print of the fictional Gerda and Kay into an attic that existed at first solely in the mind of their author.

Like them, 
there is a purity and hush at some point there between us.

The Snow Queen ~ 1844 Hans Anderson


Even if it's just the way your blue eyes look after you've spent your blue traces in wild races along the all inside of me and mine.   And the rest after me and mine have run through all of you and yours.




A witch's familiar is a secret servant, who moves in step with it's master.  Though he may be made of mostly conjured spirit matter, the witch does not fear his form close by her.

It's because he's a part of her from whence his life came.   The trick and the secret is that they are one in the same.   Separation is an illusion.    Where the face and foot steps forth from the mirror, to turn and see Self.    Gerda's journey to restore her missing half.    She wrests him from the Snow Queen who made him forget who he was.

These are some of the mysteries of my Sweet Familiar who is always welcome in my dreams.   For in my minding him and who he is, he gives back as much of himself as he receives.   And then the roses talk in perfect circles.   Nodding their dreaming heads as mine nods before you and yours.  







Friday 25 January 2013

Rosy Tones



You never lead me on.   All I have to do is let those images of your naked body in a tiny inch, and very suddenly I want a mile.







Thursday 24 January 2013

A Boy Dressed In Rags At Her Door


“From the first time I heard her
the sound of her voice
and her beauty completely bewitched me,
I was lost then and there
I was given no choice
ever since, there's been no peace for me”

Paddy McAloon


I think that the piece of music ‘I Trawl The Megahertz’ by Paddy McAloon is one of the things that really bonded us. It is our visible glue. It touched something deep within us both.

But I wonder if you know any of his other work? This track ‘Music Is A Princess’ is something I’d like you to hear. It’s from his previous incarnation with the band Prefab Sprout and the album is called ‘Let’s Change The World With Music’.

How’s that for a title with intent?

It’s the sort of track that grabs you by the lapels and pulls you in for a deep, passionate snog. Its structure is unlike any other I know, it seems to make up its own rules. 3 mins 32 of pop perfection.

Yes sweetheart - sometimes YOUR jewels are brighter than my eyes can bear xxx



Wednesday 23 January 2013

Annie Hall II



Last night I went back in time. I saw Annie Hall at the cinema. 

Recognise the seating and the ticket my darling? You should, because you were with me all night. I felt you right beside me. Together, we were there - and it was 1974.

“La-di-dah”

xxx

This snippet of dialogue is worth repeating, as is most of the film. 
But this is pretty special I'd say:


Alvy Singer (to Annie ) ~

“You are extremely sexy, unbelievably sexy.  
     You know what you are, you’re polymorphously perverse...   
         You’re exceptional in bed because you got - you get pleasure in every part of your body when I touch it ... 

                                 Like the tip of your nose, 
                                            and if I stroke your teeth or your kneecaps...  
                                                               you get excited."