Posted by Lilly | 13 Comments
Loved
When I dug deep into the blackness and confessed my flaws yesterday, I never expected the reaction that I got. I expected for people to read that post and think about how much of a deviation it is from what I show on this blog and be….disappointed? No, that’s not the word. I don’t know what word I’m looking for. But either way, I was surprised at what I got.
And I cannot tell you all how touched I am. No, seriously, y’all made me cry. Like big, fat Hallmark-commercial tears when it’s that time of the month and you’ve just watched the episode of Grey’s Anatomy where Denny dies*. The sweet things, the supportive things, the “I feel that way too” things…..was just overwhelming. And it makes me sad that so many people feel that way; I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy. Why does it have to be this way? What has happened in this world that we have to feel this way? I grew up around mean, judgmental people. Sometimes I think it’s an epidemic of Pennsylvania. Why can’t I have people like you all in my daily “real” life, why do you have to be scattered around the country?
I got more comments on my Flawed post than on my HNT. Some people might see that as a complaint. No no, I see that as amazing and touching and meaningful. I can’t even tell you how much I love you guys.
And then today I get this email from the DivineCaroline.com site – somebody, I don’t know who, nominated my blog for this award. Whoever did that…..thank you. That’s pretty awesome. I have zero expectations of winning, just going by the number of sites nominated and the winners of last year (not sex blogs), but I don’t really care. That’s not what it’s about here. Somebody likes this blog of mine, and that’s a pretty cool thing in my world.
psssstt…..
There’s only 2 days left to enter to win an NJOY PURE WAND from me and edenfantasys.com. I’m really excited to give away one of these and I hope to be able to give one away again in the future. It’s obvious a lot of people are lusting for this toy!!
* Don’t click on that link if you’re feeling at all emotional or sappy, ok? Just don’t, lol.
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Posted by Lilly | 42 Comments
Confessional: Flawed
Another Suburban Mom did a “Flawed” HNT this past week and asked others to join.
I, obviously, did not.
And why not?
Well, this confession is as much as you’ll get from me for the time being.
I couldn’t participate. I was not brave enough. And I also wouldn’t have been able to pick anything out. The truth is…..*sigh* this is hard for me to admit here. I’m afraid you’ll all think less of me. Ok here goes: I see flaws everywhere.
(god that felt like “I see dead people”)
All those who comment here are so wonderful and participating in HNT has helped me. I have been reminded by those that love me that others do not see me as I do, others are not as harsh. I am my own worst critic.
*I hate my weight. I am fat, I am obese. You do not see it all, I am not brave enough to show it each week. I hide it away. I am deeply ashamed of it. My weight contributes to many flaws, if I were not obese, they would not exist.
*But even without the weight, I’ve never had a flat belly. Always a chub there. But now with the excess weight it is my most hated spot.
*I hate my round cheeks. Even when I was thin, they were round and full. Now my whole face and neck is.
*I hate the skin around my eyes. It’s too dark, and it took me a very long time to find a decent enough makeup to cover it. I won’t leave the house without that.
*My complexion – ever since I went off hormonal birth control, I cannot control my breakouts.
*My hair – again, result of that birth control drop, I lost some right up front. You can see my scalp through it. The rest is thin and fine. Won’t hold a curl very long.
*My upper lip – lower one is great, the upper is out of proportion.
*My smile – at least when I smile “with teeth” which I only do when laughing and I try not to let it show. You don’t end up seeing much teeth and it just looks…weird. Awkward. My smile is not one that lights up a room.
*My nipples – well specifically the areola. (is that spelled right?) As my breasts grew, so did they. They’re very large. I worry that if/when I lose my excess weight and my breasts shrink, that they won’t.
*My breasts – yes, I’ll hear about this one. You all love them so. I think they’re too large, too fatty, not perky, etc. I could wear prettier bras if I were smaller.I love my cleavage, I love the full mounds of my breasts when they’re supported.
*My cunt – I feel my outter labia are too full and fat. Were they better when I was thinner? I don’t know, I didn’t masturbate much then. They hide my clit away, they hide everything.
*My inner thighs – well, I won’t even say on here after all these confessions why I hate them but I suspect it’s a result of my weight.
I fake it sometimes, my confidence. Sometimes I feel sexy. But then sometimes I really don’t. Sometimes I want to cry when I look in the mirror at my naked self, or see the HNT reject photos that show me looking humongous. And sometimes I do cry. Sometimes I wish for a magical knife to slice it all off. Sometimes I feel like a fraud, with the photos I post.
I really do. But I’m too cowardly to show the flaws. And it makes me a bad person.
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Posted by Lilly | 8 Comments
How Long? Not yet.
How long does it take to move on?
How long until you stop comparing potential “replacements” to what is being replaced?
How long until you can reclaim that thing, or that subject, or that place as yours – the way it was before they claimed it with you….
Before you let them in to it, whether in open arms or edging along the wall…..
How long until you stop seeing the replacement as a poor substitute?
Finding faults and cons, not pros.
There’s this pair of shoes sitting here, left behind. Big shoes to fill, so to speak. They’re not perfect shoes; there’s a few scuffs and a squeak that comes from the left heel when walking. These shoes are unique and one of a kind. I don’t think they can be filled by anyone but their old owner. They can’t even be borrowed for a little bit. And since I am seeing that similar=poor substitute, it’s time for a new style.
How long until I’m able to move them? Not to be gotten rid of entirely, but put away so that it doesn’t look like they’re sitting and waiting (I’m not sitting and waiting). The shoes are going to stay where they are for the time being, I guess. A little longer, a slow and gradual move. But I’m not ready.
Not yet.
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Posted by Lilly | 32 Comments
HNT: Untitled (sheer series 2 and 3)
Don’t all the big artists like throwing around “Untitled” when they just can’t think up something good enough? I bet every painter that has ever done a gallery has at least one if not half a dozen.
While I’m not an artist, I’m gonna go ahead and take my mulligan here and say “I got nothin”. So I made the title all artsy. That totally distracted you from the lack of a decent title, didn’t it??? Lie to me, I promise I’ll believe.
Although I will say that this angle that I used, for the Sheer Black Top series, would work really well if it were in 3D…..don’t ya think? If I knew how to create a 3D pic that works with those funky paper glasses I’d so make you guys one.
And now, I’m off to play with our new geek toy (laptop) that karma promptly kicked our asses for getting (car issue that started in the parking lot, but we got it under control. I hope). The lappie has a webcam. I haven’t had a working webcam in a year. And that’s the thought I’ll leave you all with ;)
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Posted by Lilly | 15 Comments
A Prelude to Fisting, or, My Best Friend the G-Spot
I think that my G-spot has been trying to pick up the slack from my clit.
Meaning, despite having a clit o’steel, my G-spot is mightily responsive now that I know her exact address. She was an elusive bugger, akin to locating Platform 9 3/4. Thanks to my Pure Wand though we’re now very friendly neighbors.
I’m sure I’ve mentioned that my clit o’steel leads to another sad occurrence: clitoral orgasm from oral sex is nigh on impossible. “Close but no cigar” is the usual outcome. Thankfully my hubby has no issues with letting a vibrator finish me off.
Last night was no different in that regard but on the plus side he has become as well acquainted with my G-spot as Mr. Pure Wand has. The women whose orgasms aren’t falling like ripe apples will know what I mean when I say that he had me in such a frenzy that my body was quite literally climbing for release. My legs writhing, my pelvis rocking and humping his hand and mouth; my arms reaching for unseen extra partners and my hands grasping empty air or bunching up the bedsheets; my torso arching up off of the bed. I must have looked like a woman possessed and that’s just what I felt like.
Something else amazing was happening as I was pleading with my body to tip over that edge of clitoral orgasm (in one moment of delusional insanity I was picturing that awful yodeling Swiss plastic man from this one Price is Right game except this time I wanted him to topple off the mountain), my G-spot took the wheel and holy wow. I wanted to ask him how many fingers he was pumping inside of me but I couldn’t form words. Like the angel and the devil on your shoulders my mind and body alternately begged for clitoral orgasm and reveled in the G-spot orgasm. I finally brushed off the devil representing my clit and rode out the G-spot waves. To his credit he didn’t stop his fingers and hand until I closed my thighs and silently let him off duty.
Still unable to speak, he carefully climbed up and started fucking me. I say carefully because the fibromyalgia can even affect sex when my whole body is extra-tender to the touch – this even included my cunt. There had been an underlying achy pain as he was thrusting his fingers inside of me but the pleasure greatly outnumbered it. Hubby came after a few minutes, which is good because my G-spot couldn’t take any more pleasure. He had commented prior to the sex that I was a lot wetter than usual; I could tell as he was fucking me that it wasn’t my usual wetness – thinner and more slippery than silky.
Despite all that goodness my clit was still thumping for attention so I asked him to hand me the Hitachi. I spread myself open so that the head of the Hitachi had more direct contact with the pelvic bone buried under flesh just to the right of my clit – this placement allows the vibrations to spread to the legs of my clitoris, the portion that’s internal. When I turned it on, I knew then that I had indeed squirted/gushed earlier. There was so much fluid and wetness pooling in between my plump outter labia that the vibrations of the Hitachi sounded like a mini motorboat churning in the water. It’s an obscene sound, no hiding how wet I am. He helped me along after a few frustrating moments of “almost there” and his fingers again felt fatter and larger than normal. I likely woke up the neighbors with that orgasm.
The details of downtime moments are lost to the haze of orgasm recovery but I can recall us laying there, panting, him asking me if I’m alright and I just laughed insanely. I recall asking him if he could tell when I gushed while his fingers were in me and he said:
“I have no idea, my hand was numb.”
I was silent for a few seconds and then apologized while laughing. And then thanked him while giggling.
Oh and I finally asked him how many fingers he had used. I fully expected him to say 4, with the way it felt. But no, it was only 3. Perhaps it felt like more because of the flare-up. I’m simultaneously looking forward to and doubting a future attempt at fisting. Can he? But oh it might feel awesome! My cunt says “it might hurt!” but my G-spot says “I don’t fuckin care, bitch!”.
Don’t know what yodeler I’m referring to? It’s ok, I know my brain doesn’t always make sense. Here, watch this short Price is Right clip and you’ll know.
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