Explosions

The lyrics of this song by Ellie Goulding bring You to mind.  

Most especially, the part that I have bolded in the end of the lyrics.

I see that the explosion in your world as it all comes crashing down from the sky.  An explosion no-one could prevent, no matter how hard anyone could have tried.

But it is You, YOU that has put yourself into that situation and there is only so much anyone can do.  For so long, I tried.  But it would never, nor could it ever be enough.  

But it will never be the same. It never can be the same.

We can only watch from a distance, love from a distance, knowing that it is the only way it can be.  And hoping, that after it has all crashed down, that one day, somehow, you will come back together. With peace of mind.

Ellie Goulding - Explosions

You trembled like you'd seen a ghost
And I gave in
I lack the things you need the most, you said where have you been
You wasted all that sweetness to run and hide
I wonder why
I remind you of the days you poured your heart into
But you never tried
I've fallen from grace
Took a blow to my face
I've loved and I've lost
I've loved and I've lost

Explosions...on the day you wake up
Needing somebody and you've learned
It's okay to be afraid
But it will never be the same
It will never be the same

You left my soul bleeding in the dark
So you could be king
The rules you set are still untold to me and I lost my faith in everything
The nights you could cope, your intentions were gold
But the mountains will shake
I need to know I can still make

Explosions...on the day you wake up
Needing somebody and you've learned
It's okay to be afraid
But it will never be the same

And as the floods move in
And your body starts to sink
I was the last thing on your mind
I know you better than you think
'Cause it's simple darling, I gave you a warning
Now everything you own is falling from the sky in pieces
So watch them fall with you, in slow motion
I pray that you will find peace of mind
And I'll find you another time
I'll love you, another time

Explosions...on the day you wake up
Needing somebody and you've learned
It's okay to be afraid
But it will never be the same 

The kiss

Your mouth, your face, your neck,
Breathing you in as my body presses against your own.
Feeling the hardness from your body 
as you push against me harder still.
Adorning you with a kiss, 
your flesh greedily being covered and taken
Tasting you upon my tongue.
As my mouth traces the lines of your body.
Feeling desire igniting deep inside.
I can feel your want of me. Your need of me.
And I can taste the desire that flows from your body.
I can still feel it now, the way it felt. 
As I claimed your mouth and took it with my own.

 

Something happened.

Lips meet.

Something happens, an intensity of locked eyes, staring deep into the others' soul.  The things that you see - desire, lust, love, longing, all felt the moment our lips touched in tender gentleness.  I could almost taste you before we'd even touched. The gentleness of your lips, your probing tongue, the roughness of the stubble against my face.

A gentle moment, tender and intimate, an exchange of breath and closeness, passion and lust.  A moment shared.

Something happened.

Flowers . . .

For my flowers.  I thank you!

They are simply beautiful and lovely and sweet.  Just like you, the person who sent them to me.  

It means a lot, that you asked for certain flowers to be included because you know how much I love them and their personal significance, but also that you asked for certain flowers to be omitted - the note that you sent did show to me just how much you'd taken on board, the things that you remembered of the things that we had talked about.

So, I thank you, sincerely, for your thoughtful care, for your very good memory and for a wonderful surprise - they are very special.

They have made my day.   

*YOU* have made my day.  

*smiles*

Thank you!

Craved

A desire burns, a body trembles with a deep need as yet unsated.  A simple touch creates a hunger that isn't satisfied.  I want to place my hands on you, tearing at your skin with my nails, I want to feel your body against my own, dampness of burning skin sliding against the other as I feel your strength from your body as I pull you closer.

The beast unleashed, let free from its cage, as you beg and plead to be taken, to be broken, to bleed, to cry.  And the pleadings only serve to increase the need to hurt you more, to enshroud us in a depraved darkness as it covers us and we are swept away in the licentious moment in time, becoming one in the erratic beat of passion and desire that sounds out within the room.  

Irregular and ragged breath that you take, a beating heart pounding to its own cadence.  Body so tight that it cannot take in its breath, lungs screaming for air and life.  Eyes wide and glazed with a fire burning deep within.  Butterflies fluttering, juices dampening soft and silky thighs.  The darkness unleashes a beast, a primal woman, that sees the need burning deep within you.

Hair gripped in hand, shoving you to the ground, raising your face with one hand as the other snaps against your cheek, head spinning, falling deeper into a place where nothing exists but that moment, and you and I.  Dragging you across the floor, skin scraping on the bare floor, a cacophony of moans and groans escaping your engorged lips.  Thrown to the floor, being held with my heel from my shoe, I reach for the belt that is hung over the door.  The smell of leather permeates the air, wafted under your nose to excite you further.

The sounds of your scream echo in the silence, as your body shakes uncontrollably, the sense of power courses from the leather up through my arm, crashing down through my body in a never ending spiral. There is urgency, heat and passion, harshness and cruelty, as the leather beats at your skin, as your screams tear me apart, ripping me open, baring the beast that has been caged inside for so long.

Sensations take hold, your choking from my foot against your neck, the harshness of the leather against your reddened skin.  As I reach down to take you in my arms, my palms coming down against the soft flesh of the cheeks of your ass, exploring, probing, until they find where they want to go.  Your body shaking and yet soaring with the stimulation of my fingers and my breath against your neck as I whisper into your ear.  The screams that escape your mouth as I push in deeper, the screams that continue to excite the beast, primal cravings as I take you in my hand, deep gutteral utterances escaping your lips, as you are taken. 

Used. Ripped. Assaulted. Broken.

And yet, it was embraced, welcomed, needed.

Craved.

Guess what . . .

 . . .is on it's way to me?


Oh my.















.

 

Yes, as I wrote HERE . . . complete shoe porn!

And now, I will have my very own pair!

I'm such a bad girl ;) 


And now I must be patient for them to arrive.  

Do hurry up Mr Postman! I need a dose of shoe porn! I need them for my feet!!!  I am normally a very patient person, but I cannot wait for these to arrive :D

 

Dreaming

I had a dream last night.

The whole events of "letting go" as I wrote about HERE in April of last year replayed themselves in my mind.   And I have woken this morning feeling that whole sense of emptiness that overwhelmed me at that moment I stood up and walked away, the moment that the heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

It was as if it happened only yesterday, and yet it seems a lifetime ago.   But I am somewhat taken aback at how fresh those memories are, the feelings, the emotions, the sadness, of how vivid the look of pain in his eyes can still haunt so many months later.

I know what caused it to be in my dreams, I know that something happened yesterday, something that someone said, was just like hearing something from all that time ago.  Same words. Same sentiment. Different person.

I am not sure how JoJo and I have not crossed paths since last November, in fact, I thought I saw him pass outside my office window as I daydreaming out of it this morning.  And it is strange how he doesn't come to mind and yet not only last night did I relive that whole moment, and then today, I had a fleeting glimpse of someone who was so much like him pass outside the window.

Someone commented on a post about JoJo recently, saying that I gave him the gift of opening him up to be the person he was, so he could be the person he wanted to be, that I had accepted him in a way that others close to him hadn't. But that, however hard, letting him go was, that was also a gift to him.

But at times, even now, it doesn't feel like a gift.

The sadness of his eyes can haunt, I know that it hurt him, and yet it was the last thing that I would ever want to do on an emotional level (hurting him from a sadistic point of view is a completely different kettle of fish), but, I know that it did.  And yet, I know it was the right thing, and I hate that there is a little seed of doubt from the dream I had last night as to whether it could have been different.

Because I know it could not have been. 

Of course it couldn't.  Not really. No matter how much we may want something to "be", we cannot make it "be" if it really stands no chance of ever being.

Yes we can make things happen, we can make things work, but, only if they are on the same page, wanting the same things, needing the same things.  And he and I weren't, we didn't.  And it still makes me feel somewhat sad, in a melancholic way, of having to let go so completely, so totally. 

With such total finality.

I miss the conversations we would have, the way we would explore the depths of his mind, finding an understanding for his longings, his needs, the things for which he carried so much shame.   I miss the times we laughed, the times we shared, I miss his vulnerability and the way his eyes would drop, the way his cheeks would blush and burn.  The way he would plead for more and then beg to stop.  The conflict of his desires battling at force with the thoughts in his mind.

But despite that, or even because of all of that, it was the best thing for him.

Yes I know.

But, that aside, there's that little tiny part of me that sometimes wished that it didn't have to be that way. We could have continued to share so much, but there would always have been the things missing from what we needed, I didn't want to resent him, I didn't want him to resent me.   I could have taken almost what I wanted, but couldn't do that to him.

Blegh! Dreams.

How difficult they can be at times, re-living a situation, a moment in time that was always best left in the past.   And it was. It is.  And I need to shake this feeling. 

At times like this, insomnia and not being able to dream is a little more appealing! 

Bliss.

Now we’re in the bedroom.
The bed is our cocoon,
a soft haven. 

We pull the crisp sheets over our heads,
and we’ve created our own 
                                          pillowy world.

We are Gods. 

The sun shines
                       through the windows,
                        through the blinds,
peeking past the through the curtains.
Even though the sunlight snuck in, 
we welcome it. 

Life.

I open my eyes, 

Taking my first look at
The new world we have 
                         created, omnipotent.
A world of white sheets, 
warmth, 
our mingling scents... 
                                            and you…

You smile.
I can’t help
                          but smile back.

Why are we laughing?
Neither of us know;
but we are. 

Bliss.






© Kat

Taking the mind

^^^ this says it all.

It is a wonderful thing to crawl into someone's mind.

To sit there. To fill their thoughts, to take them one by one. . . .






Taking your thoughts. Taking your mind. Taking you.

Missing the sunrise

 

It seems a lifetime ago that I was waking up in the mornings, walking the dogs over the deserted dunes watching the sun rise up over them, walking for miles before the town awoke, only the dogs, the birds and the wild rabbits out for their early mornings before being disturbed by the campers, day trippers and holidaymakers.  It is hard to believe that it is only four weeks ago.

Life continues to be busy, hectic. Stressful. Finding the time to do what I enjoy doing, has been difficult.  And even having taken several months away from writing, from doing lots of things, getting back into it hasn't been as easy either.

And as you will know from some of my previous blogs, I have a thing for sunsets (I've posted lots of my own pictures) such as these

but, I also like watching the sunrise too . . .and so . . .here is the one from the early morning dog walk, over the deserted dunes as the sun is just starting to come up.

I love it when it is like this, the first bit of warmth as it hits your skin, opposite to the last bit of warmth that you get from the sun going down.  Sunsets, sunrises can be quite breathtakingly beautiful and while I am looking forward to the ones we shall see in Turkey later this summer, it is always nice when they are closer to home.

We were blessed with some nice weather, which in May for the UK is quite unusual, especially as most of the country was drowning under yet more rain, we were blessed with sun.  Yes it was windy, but there is something quite lovely about watching the sea crashing over the rocks when its more of a stormy day, watching as the spray goes high up into the air and floating off into the breeze.

And I would give anything to be back there right now, walking while the sun rises, down on the beach as the sunsets.  Peaceful. Relaxed. Away from the daily grind and the things which drag us into things that need to be sorted but which are so continually draining.

Still . . .6 weeks and we shall be on the plane.  Going back to one of my favourite places, warmth, a beautiful beach, and beautiful sunsets.  While I won't be seeing many sunrises, or walking the dogs over the dunes, I am sure there will be some chance for some peaceful moments. Surrounded by the mountains, the sea, the beach.  Sometimes you just have to take a step back from the life we are in, back to the basics and what is around us.

Taking time to smell the roses.  I need to do it more often, as I know all too well, life is too short. 

Oh my! Shoe porn

Oh my.

I am in LOVE with these shoes.

I've got a real "thing" for shoes at the moment, and have come across some wonderful photos via tumblr of shoes I'm just falling in love with.  

 Perhaps I'm developing a delayed shoe fetish or discovering one that I never knew I had LOL

It maybe that during the past 10 months, due to my complete turn around in my "healthy lifestyle" I've now dropped 2 shoe sizes, which also means, these should now fit!!!

I think that these deserve a place in my wardrobe . . . .

Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet.

Plato

I saw this, and loved it.  Both the image and the words.  I wanted to place it here, for they are both beautiful

Waiting

He waited patiently.  But then he would have waited forever.

For her.

For whatever she had planned. For whatever she had in mind.

For whatever was his fate.

He would dare not move.  Or raise his eyes.  The sound of her footsteps echoing loudly as she descended the stairs precisely.  He counted the exact seconds she stood on each stair before stepping down the next.  He knew exactly how many more stairs there were to go before she would stand in front of him.

The sight of her feet being the first thing that came into his view and the tip of the crop that she held languidly in her hand, yet knowing her grip on it would change all too quickly.

He had openly presented himself.

For her.

For whatever she had planned. For whatever she had in mind.

For whatever was his fate.

He breathed in deeply, her scent filling his nose, drawing comfort from her close proximity to him and her aroma.  Regardless of what was to come his way he drew comfort in her presence.  Revelling in her attention, that she had yet to bestow on him.  Yet savouring every moment he was in her presence.  He was obediently waiting for his Owner, his lover, his everything.

And he, Her cherished pet.  Her toy. Her boy.

Her everything.

His waiting was over.

Passion

It lies in all of us.
Sleeping, waiting and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir.
Open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us, guides us.
Passion rules us all and we obey.
What other choice do we have?
Passion is the source of our finest moments.
The joy of love,the clarity of hatred and the ecstasy of grief.
It hurts sometimes more than we can bear.
If we could live without passion maybe we’d know some kind of peace but,
we would be hollow.
Empty rooms shuttered and dank.
Without passion we’d be truly dead.

Joss Whedon



*I* LOVE this.

Brief

She placed them into his briefcase when he wasn't looking, knowing that the next time he would open it, that he would find them.  There was no way of knowing who would be there with him when he did, whether he would be alone . . .or not.  Whether it would be in the office or on the train.

Except, she didn't care. She didn't care who would see, or how he would feel.  She loved the thought of his cheeks burning with humiliation when he opened his briefcase to find them lying there.  She knew what thoughts would pass through his mind, the feelings that would course at speed through his body.  She knew the flash of desire, longing and needing that would reflect in his darkened eyes. 

He walked into the office, greeting his colleagues as he did so, placing the briefcase onto his desk, he opened it while talking to his PA.  As he talked to her, he reached into his brief case to grab the file they were discussing, except his hands found a soft silk.  He felt his cheeks begin to burn as his as he ran his fingers gently over the material.

His eyes began to darken, his body began to react, just as she had known that it would.  He shoved the panties into his pocket and excused himself briefly from the room.  Now that he was alone, he pulled out the silk, her panties. Raising it up to his nose.  He could smell her.  Her scent was there, strong, fragrant yet delectably and undeniably her.

He inhaled deeply, smelling her it made him groan out loud as his hand found its way to his hardening cock.  Her panties, not even her, had an effect on him.  He bunched them up in his hand, drawing in every part of her, before placing them back into his pocket.

He didn't even return to the office, instead calling his PA on his phone as he hastily made his way back to the car.  He knew she would be at home, waiting. And as he smiled at the thought of her, he knew that the spell she had cast on him lured him back.

May not be easy . . .BUT

IT may not be easy, turning the pages - taking the step.  

I know that in what I wrote HERE  that it may have come across in my words that I didn't want to turn the pages, that I was happy to stay where I was . . .where I am.  That I am not willing, wanting, or desiring to take a step.

I didn't mean that at all. 

I know that I want to turn the pages, change the shoes, the story to create and unfurl, for things to be different.  To take that step and many beyond it.   In the words of Martin Luther King "You don't have to see the whole staircase, just take the first step."

It doesn't mean it isn't a big step - it is!  But knowing it is a big step doesn't mean that I do not want to take it.

I do.

And that I am very sure about.

Nothing.

"There's no such thing as nothing. In every nothing there is a something. In fact there could be everything" Libba Bray - Going Bovine

Nothing IS something, after all. 

Even if we are "nothing" we are still something.

Poor, cheap and bad philosophy maybe and yet maybe there's a grain of truth to it. You'll probably dismiss it and insist, "No, I am nothing." And yet there you sit, in front of the computer, existing.

I mean in a world where things that don't exist actually DO exist by virtue of thinking of them...how can we, you, I or anyone deny the existence of such a truly physical object? (Sorry to call you an object, but you know (hopefully!) what I mean...)

And yet, even if "nothing" does exist by such a definition, it isn't what I want.  Nothing isn't enough, it isn't what I want. I want so much more. More of everything.

And yet, at times, like now for example, it seems as if nothing could be exactly what will be, how it will be and yet I hope that in this nothing, there could be everything.

It isn't as easy as it seems . . .

A couple of days ago, I wrote about turning the pages, of how you get to a point when you realise that you're stuck on the same page and have been for a long time.

You get the feeling that you want to turn the page to get to a new bit of the story - to create a new part of the story.

And then there is the conflict - the part of you that wants to rush through the new chapters to see what unfurls.  Not in a rush to reach "the end" because, that's not really a place that you want to rush to ya know?

I mean, you don't want to get to the end, but you do want to turn the pages, for the chapters to happen,  and you want it to happen now, and it isn't happening fast enough or how you want to, and its frustrating - as if the pages are a little stuck together . . .

But while on one hand you want those chapters to fly through, to play out at full speed, the other hand is scared to even look at the title on the next page, scared of reading the first sentence.  Fearful of what it may bring and all of a sudden, the page that you were on, didn't seem so bad at all.

In fact, it felt like home. It felt safe and comfortable and a pretty alright place to be.

And maybe, just maybe, it is better to stay there.

Better to stay in the place which you know, the comfort, the safety of where you were.  Knowing the equilibrium, knowing the balance, knowing of what there was, and what there is.  Not having to step outside of that zone of comfort, not stepping into the new, or the unknown. 

It is a bit like being in a pair of your favourite old boots, knowing that they fit, knowing that they won't pinch or hurt, that you can walk safely in them, that you won't fall on your ass on a slippy path, that they won't let you down because they just "fit".

And yet, turning that new page is like putting on a new pair of heels.

Shoes not yet broken in, shoes which are new, which make you teeter when you walk, that you walk out with trepidation and an uncertainty because you aren't quite sure of your step, just in case you slip over and take a hard fall.  Just in case you hit the ground. Just in case it's all going to go wrong. Or fail. Or hurt.

And taking off those faithful boots isn't easy.

Putting on the new shoes is even harder, because, I mean, it's a risk. Putting them on, in case they hurt, in case you slip, in case you fall - it's a risk ya know.  And it isn't as easy as it seems changing shoes.  It isn't easy taking off the old pair of boots, just as it isn't easy to turn the pages for the new chapters. 

But there is something, just something that makes you wonder, makes you question whether you're ready for a new pair of shoes, whether you're ready for a new chapter, even if you know deep down that you are.  No matter how confident you maybe in yourself, it is a step. A big step.

Taking that step - regardless of how much you want to, need to, desire to or long to!

It isn't as easy as it seems.

Beast

I don't  want to touch you with gentle hands

Or talk to your with a soft gentle voice.

I don't want to look at you with softness or love.

I want you to see my darkness. To pull you into

the dark and depraved. I want you to feel the desires

that engulf me, overwhelm me, that fills my veins.

The ones that exist in the darkest corners of my psyche.

I want to strip you bare. Taking down the walls that keep you safe.

I want you to feel what I do; as I do. Battling against a

darkness and desire that takes you down to the lowest of places.

I want to rape your body, to rape your mind.

To hurt your heart with cruel words that squeeze it

with their harshness. I want my hands to tear at your your body,

raking nails over the softness of your naked flesh.

Taking you, hurting you, marking you right through to

the depths of you, through to your soul.

I want you to feel the beast that lives inside of me, to see it,

feel it, crave it. Love it. To open the door of its cage,

to set it free, so that it can be unleashed upon you.

You opening the door to be a willing victim. A victim,

to be taken, broken. And yet still beg for more.

Broken Dream

Your text in the early hours of the morning woke me. 

Woke me from a wonderful and deliciously wicked dream that when I looked at your words, my body was already tingling, was already throbbing, desiring, longing, craving.

I almost had to stop for a moment to check that it had in fact been a dream, the arousal of my body, the way that I was feeling was so real, so deeply felt, that it was hard to believe that that arousal could come from a dream.

And I couldn't help but drift back to the images that had been within my dream only moments before . . .as hands touch, as fingers make their way into the warmth and wetness that the dream created.  I find myself in that moment. Hot. Wet. Aroused.


But I want to go back to that dream.
To you.
To us.