June 2019

Every damn Day in June is the brainchild of Hy. Most of us have resolutions to blog more in January and the momentum lasts through February Photofest and on into the April Blogging A-Z. But keeping things going till June is hard. There are plenty of memes to help. But sometimes that help is overwhelming and you end up not quite knowing where to start. That’s where Every Damn Day in June comes in.

This is my 23rd post for June. Does that mean I’ve failed? Hell no. While it would be fabulous to post every day, this meme recognises that many bloggers are struggling at this point in the year. I am no exception.

As I mentioned the other day, I have picked up some work (actual paid work). It is taking my time, not to mention my energy. Plus I am busy with other pursuits – getting slim and fit and also re-learning French. I am proper busy for a retired person. So, a summery.

Health, diet and fitness

Work last week involved staying away. I was woefully unprepared in terms of sticking to my eating plan. Plus, having no work base when out of the house I used coffee shops. Then because it was the right thing to do, I drank large quantities of cappuccino. This is not conducive to weight loss. But at least I didn’t put any weight on.

Great new though is that I am sticking to my exercise plan. Average step count is now around 9000 per day and I’m expecting to hit 10000 this week. Plus the swimming and app based aerobics continues. Even if I am not getting slim, I am getting fitter. We have also been painting fences in the garden and that is reminding us of muscles we had forgotten we had!

Holiday preparations

Just a week to go, so this week will be full on preparation mode. The key issue is what to take. How many clothes? What stuff from my house that I have stored for almost a year. We have those decisions to make this week. But whatever, I an feeling massively excited about this trip. 6 whole weeks away from home.

Blogging

While our kink is never far away, there is every chance it will take more of a back seat while we are in France. Therefore there may be a more vanilla theme creeping in. But then again there is every chance that we will have some naked and kinky opportunities and if they pop up then I will write about them.

But, there is every chance that I will blog fewer times in July than June. Even sex blogs and their authors deserve a holiday!

When I grow up

I don’t remember when I decided that I wanted to be a nurse, but I was pretty young.

As a child

I wasn’t massively into dolls as a child, but they made damn good patients. Why childhood reading often concentrated on stories about illness and recovery. I read stories about nurses, but also ones about being sick. The best ones were written by people who had been sick as children. I bandaged and splinted the dolls limbs and at every opportunity used a younger child as a patient. My brothers soon grew wise, so I had to wait till my parents friends arrived with their offspring. Little girls love to play house (or they did in the late 60’s) and took little persuasion to play hospitals instead.

Teenage me

The careers advisor was happy that I had already decided my career path. One less person to bother with. In the library there was an area devoted to further education and careers information. There I found the addresses of some London hospitals and wrote to 4 or 5.

The first couple of interviews weren’t successful. I hadn’t worked out why I wanted a career in nursing and gave some stupid answers to their questions. But I learned and was accepted at two prestigious hospitals. I was advised to do some work experience over the summer I was 18. Back then (unlike when my son was at secondary school) work experience wasn’t organised at school. So 17 year old me sorted it for myself.

The two week experience on a surgical ward was interesting and a massive eye opener. It was a bit weird as the father of one of my best friends was a patient on the ward, but I sensibly told the staff and managed to stay clear of him. Not put off by this experience, in the autumn of 1980 at 18 years and 2 months I started my nurse training.

Grown up me and nursing

I worked as a clinical nurse for 20 years, in a variety of specialities. I was a district nursing sister (just like my childhood idol Sue Barton) and a specialist nurse in rheumatology. Then I left for the world of management and a 9-5 existence.

Nursing is definitely a grown up job and not for the faint hearted. At 18 I was nursing patients with terminal cancer. A patient suffered a stroke while I was undergoing a practical assessment (not my fault) and in my second year one of my patients burst his femoral arteries in my face.

But nursing has made me the person I am. It has taught me about human kindness. Most people do care and will go above and beyond to help others. But also it has shown me that not everyone is truthful or indeed pleasant. People really will lie to your face and they will stab you in the back (not literally of course).

I got out of nursing because I was tired, fatigued by trying to care in difficult circumstances. I took a break and never went back and know it was the right thing to do.

What would I like to do be paid for now?

Well I would like to find a way to be paid for writing. In a way that does happen now as since leaving my job last year I have had a couple of professional jobs doing that. But I would love to make this blog pay. I’d love to write about something other than healthcare and get paid for it. Time and effort will tell.

#F4TFriday

Being grateful for my mistakes

I’ve made quite a few mistakes in my life, it would be difficult not to by my age. But I’m a little hard pressed to think of any that I really regret or that I’m not a little grateful for.

I was married at 21

I think that was probably a mistake. He was my first serious boyfriend and we did what everyone thought we should. My parents frowned on us living together first, and weren’t best pleased that we lived in our first house before the wedding. I remember telling a friend soon after the wedding that I had been in love with the wedding itself. That was probably a clear indicator.

I am thankful for being married to him though, because I have my son. He is now happily married himself and is his own person. He has some of his dads more cautious traits, which hopefully won’t hold him back. But I think he has the intelligence to work things out for himself.

I stayed in the marriage after being cheated on

That too was a mistake. I should have got out before I did and certainly after I found out what a lier he was. Indeed my ex often struggled to know what the truth was. Years later when he no longer needed to tell lies he still did so. It was bizarre.

But my life has been better for the fact that we did carry on together. More of our life was happy than not and I am grateful for those happy memories. In fact the bad times fade from memory now I have distance between us. Over the past year our relationship has improved and I don’t dislike him as I once did. I’m grateful he is someone else’s problem, but happy to be his kind of friend.

I’ve stayed in jobs too long

I probably could have progressed my career and climbed higher up the ladder. But actually I am grateful for the stability I have had in my life along with the work life balance. I was able to take my son to school, take time off for concerts and plays and be there when he needed me. Promotion might have given us more material things, but we were always reasonably comfortable. Plus I have never had to work all hours because it is expected of me (not since I left clinical practice anyway).

Sometimes I’ve put my trust in the wrong people

We probably all have. Like many people, I have told people deep and personal things only for them to ghost me. I have also had confidences broken. But from where I sit now, I have few regrets. Friends come and go in life and that has to be accepted. I am sad that some people have listened to the word of others over mine, but that is something we cannot control. Life is one long learning curve and I no longer bear a grudge.

I met Master at the right time

Master and I have spoken a lot about the what ifs. What if we had met sooner, perhaps had a child together. But the question is always whether we would have found each other and even then if we would have been attracted.

We are right together for this time in our life and I am grateful for that. There is no mistake in accepting that this is the life we have and I am grateful for mine.

#F4TFriday

F4TF – Room 101

Room 101

I have to admit that I haven’t read 1984 by George Orwell. But I do know that room 101 is the place where your greatest fear resides. I have though watched the TV programme of the same name and on that people banish things they really hate or fear.

My general fears

As I’ve got older I fear fewer every day things. There is nothing like going through experiences to make you face your fears – having a baby, losing a parent, getting cancer. Done those, got the T-shirt. Of course they were never things that filled my waking hours until I knew they were going to happen. But still they were fears all the same.

After my son was born and began to grow I had a fear that something would happen to him and I would be left childless again. This fear hasn’t really gone away, but now he is an adult I worry less. I fear me or Master developing a life limiting condition, particularly something neurological. Certainly, I fear cancer less than M.S or motor neurone disease from which my brother in law recently died. I worry too about dementia, especially that period of time when you have insight into what is happening. My nursing knowledge certainly doesn’t help allay my fears.

Sexual fears

I’m not even sure I have many real sexual fears any more. We have done so many things. I feared public play and taking my clothes off in public, but I’ve done both now.

I’m not overly keen on dildos being inserted inside my vagina, that’s because I had a weird experience with one a few years ago – I think it was the material the dildo was made of. I do have a fear of fisting, partly because I have a weird shaped vagina and don’t like it being overly stretched. Both things are likely connected.

Room 101

I don’t have anything specific to put into room 101 right now. There was a time when it would have been my ex, but relations with him have improved this past year. Plus he doesn’t keep bothering me like he used to.

I guess for me the thing I hate the most is people who judge others because they don’t act the way they want them to. Or because they believe there is only one way of doing things and we should all follow. Many politicians fit this category along with people in the D/s community who decide who fits and who doesn’t. People who judge on the basis of colour, sexuality, gender etc. Without all of those people the world would be a happier, safer and more enjoyable place.

#F4TFriday

Landmarks in my blogging history

This week’s Food For Thought Friday is about Landmarks. It is also a landmark occasion because this is the last theme that the wonderful Kilted Wookie will host, because he is handing the baton to May and Floss. I have participated in F4TF 22 times, plus another twice during it’s previous incarnation. Then, it was one of the first memes I ever took part in. I have enjoyed participating and will continue to do so.

So, onto my landmarks.

My first blog

I started my first blog on wordpress.com about 15 years ago (at a guess). Later I switched it to blogger (I’m not entirely sure why). It was about my work and home life and through it I met other nurses and people involved in healthcare across the world. It led to me moderating a forum and then when the platform was sold to me receiving a rather nice gift. An early iPod. I could have had an iPhone, but they weren’t yet available in the UK.

When I decided to start a sex / relationship blog, I deleted it. I was fearful of the two being linked. It really is one of my biggest regrets as I was proud of much of the content. If I ever started this blogging lark again, I would make sure I kept the content.

My first post on World of Joolz

In April 2012 I had just embarked on my BDSM journey. I decided to start a blog about it. Because I was beginning a long distance relationship, I soon discovered that content came in fits and starts. So I began to look for memes. This started with things like 30 days of me, 30 days of submission etc. These have proved to be an interesting way of expressing my thoughts and understanding of topics. They are also good to go back to and revisit. Now that my journey is 7 years long, there is plenty of material to do that with. This is a link to my Questions and answers posts, and includes the current one – 30 days of D/s.

Joining the sex blogging community

My experience of my nursing blog told me that visiting other people’s blogs was a great way of getting them to come and visit you. But if you don’t tell them you have been and enjoyed their content, then they only see a number of their stats. when I started World of Joolz I had little knowledge of BDSM and D/s lifestyles, but by visiting blogs I discovered a whole world of experience. My visitor numbers were always modest, but at least people came and left their own mark. In the main supportive and encouraging rather than mean and judgmental, something I had encountered previously.

But it was probably by joining Twitter in January 2016 that I found a community of people I could really get to know. Partly because more of that group are based here in the UK and some of them live pretty close by. But also that encouraged me to participate in other memes and ultimately to attend Eroticon.

Statistics

Over the past 18 months or so I have noticed a large increase in my blog statistics. Something I put down to participation in the Smut Marathon and attendance at Eroticon. I moved to self hosting in 2017 though had actually bought the site two years before hand. All of the original posts from 2012 onwards are also on the site and some of them still attract a reasonable number of page views. The average views per day have increased in that time from 60-70 to around 200. This might be small numbers to many blogging colleagues but it feels significant to me. It makes it difficult to stick to my original purpose of writing for myself.

In 2015 I wrote more words than in any other year, 105,000 in 286 posts. However I may well beat that number this year, as I am currently up to 51,000 in 130 posts. That shows I still have something to say, since I rarely if ever write for the sake of it.

Landmarks for the future

This is the longest I have written consistently in any format. I love writing my blog and for Master and I it is an important part of our communication processes. This is a place where I can write anything, though I know I do censor the things I write. I guess that everyone does. Perhaps this is an area I need to consider.

I will continue to write for as long as I have something to say and right now I have no plans to stop. I would like to write more fiction, but my head hasn’t been in the right space for that recently. I would also like to explore writing opinion pieces that require research.

There have been a number of landmarks for my blog, and hopefully there will be lots more to come.

Food for Thought Friday Badge - Landmarks

Photographs of me

I am kneeling on the bed my ankles in a spreader bar. There is a clamp attached to my labia. My wrists are cuffed.
A photo from 2014, only recently shown on the blog


It’s been a while since I participated in Food For thought Friday. But this topic caught my eye and so having just written my Wicked Wednesday post, as I cross the English Channel on a ferry, I seem to be on a roll!

Before the internet


The first photos of me wearing little or nothing (other than on the beach, but somehow that’s different) were taken about 15 years ago. I’d got chatting online to a man who lived in Scotland. There was little chance of us meeting up, but we partook in some phone sex. He sent photos of himself to me and I did the same. There was a certain thrill in sending a naked photo of myself in the shower to a semi stranger. It never occurred to me that they might be shared further or could end up on the internet. Thankfully he is a trustworthy guy that I am still in touch with, though in a completely vanilla way these days.

Getting involved in the internet era


Until the advent of cameras with phones and the ability to share photos digitally I had never taken a naked photo of myself. Nor had anyone else taken one of me. The major issue (if I’d even thought of doing it) was that you had to send photos off to be developed. Or else take them to a shop. The idea of collecting photos that people might considered risky never entered my head.


It wasn’t really until I met Master that I posted photos of myself on my blog. There had been the odd one or two, but I made sure I was unrecognisable. Most of the photos I used at the time were of other people, often taken from Tumblr blogs. S took a few photos of me when we were together, and I think I posted one or two of them. Indeed I don’t actually have many more of myself from that time.

A new age


From the beginning of this relationship though, Master photographed me naked or wearing various leather harnesses. He also took photos of me during play and still does. Then once I joined Sinful Sunday and then February Photofest I also began to take more images of myself. These have usually been with my mobile, but on occasion with my digital camera and tripod.


For a long time I made sure my face was hidden or distorted in some way. But more recently, since work and potentially losing my career became less of an issue I have become much more brazen. There are images I would hesitate to show and do. These are photos of my vulval area. Though I have done so on occasion.


I don’t really fear people I know finding my blog and exposing me. The only people who I want to protect now are my son and close family. But I think the chance of one of them discovering pictures of me online are slim. If it happened, I’d have to deal with the embarrassment but I don’t have a reputation or career to lose. That doesn’t mean I’m not careful, because I am. But this blog and others in this genre are relatively niche. So I feel it is worth the risk. Plus I Iike sharing my images with you all.

Alone time

This week’s Food for thought Friday is about making time for yourself. I am fortunate that I am able to grab some alone time most weeks. It helps that the person I live with absolutely needs time to himself, just as I do.

How often do you make time for yourself?

This depends on what we have going on in a given week. Now I am not working I am able to spend more time doing all the things I love. But there is always a danger that you try to cram too much in. This must be why retired people exclaim that they don’t know how they found time to go to work.

Master and I do most things together. We shop, cook and watch films, go out to concerts and to the cinema. We travel to lovely places, wander through and around churches and galleries. One of the reasons I stopped working as soon as I could was so that I wasn’t constantly running out of annual leave or using up entire precious weekends.

So when we have a quieter week we both take advantage. Master tends to go into his study and until now I would be on the sofa with my lap top, or else reading. But I’ve decided to return to some form of work as well as to step up my blogging pursuits. So last week we went to Ikea and bought a desk and chair for me. We have installed this in a spare bedroom. Next we plan to put in some serious shelving so that my books, which are currently residing in the garage can come into the house.

What do you do to gain the most benefit from your “you time”?

For me (and also for him I think), it is about head space. When you are constantly in the company of others there is no time to just get into your own head. To think. We both also like silence sometimes and when we listen to music we have different tastes. So spending time apart is good.

Sometimes I will go for a walk during ‘my time’. This allows me to get some fresh air and exercise while also taking time to think and reflect.

The time we spend apart enables us to have stuff to talk about when we are together. It also means that we are both mentally refreshed for whatever activity we are planning.

How do you balance the time you devote to yourself and to others? Which do you prioritise? Why?

There was a time when everyone else in my life came first. My husband and son, work, parents. Gradually over the past few years this has changed. Leaving my house in the hands of my ex and his new partner signified a change for me. Then leaving work and of course having surgery last autumn forced changes upon me. I had no choice but to prioritise me and us.

My mum now lives 2 hours away. This means visits are planned and I tend to stay over night with her and travel back the next day. My son was married at Christmas and he and his wife live in the town I moved from. This is about 40 minutes away, so again our time together is more planned than it used to be.

There is a calmness to my life that wasn’t there before. At last there is balance. But I think I deserve the life, and the alone time I get to have for now.

Loss

This week’s food for thought Friday is about loss and asks: what is your most significant loss?

This presents me with a conundrum. What is my most significant loss? Is it the loss of trust I experienced when my husband cheated on me early in my marriage? Is it the loss of my grandmother 20 years ago this year. After all she was a massive influence on me as a person. Indeed she still is. Is it the loss of my father in 2014, after all the loss of a parent is a significant thing for anyone as they travel through life. Losing a parent makes you face your own mortality. As I head towards 60 (only 3 years to go), I do think about death more. Mainly because I want to pack so much in before that happens.

Those things are all massive milestones in my life. But I guess they feel inevitable, even betrayal. You have to be lucky to get through to the end of your life without someone doing the dirty on you.

No, the most significant loss is that of my right breast. Look up at the picture above this text. At the voluptuous cleavage, that woman is me. The loss of that part of my body does not get any easier, no matter what kind of brave face I put on it.

I can no longer wear whatever I want

Walk down any bra aisle in a department store and only a small proportion are suitable for me. I love beautiful lingerie and while there are specialist providers of beautiful post mastectomy products, they aren’t what I want to buy. I long for plunging necklines or balcony bras. If I wear one of my many low cut tops or dresses with one of my current bras you see lots of lace. That is fine, but I want to show off my cleavage.

Loss of feeling

Since my surgery last year my body doesn’t feel the same. Not only is there a large piece of me missing but what is there is numb. Around the scar line the sensation is reduced and under my arm it is absolutely absent. Strangely I can’t feel if I pinch myself, but I can feel hot water as it runs down my body. These days I spend longer in the shower because of this.

All is not lost of course

I am alive and I don’t have cancer. The chance of me dying of breast cancer in the future is miniscule. I am also going to see the surgeon soon about reconstruction surgery. So there is every chance that I will get my cleavage back and be able to wear low cut clothes again. It is likely that my new breast will be smaller than the old one, and I may need a reduction on the left side. But hopefully it will help me to feel whole again.

So many people have commented on my bravery, (which I acknowledge but don’t really see), when I think I was just coping as best I could. In truth I am still angry and upset this has happened. I feel guilty for these feelings because so many people are worse off than me. After all I have fully recovered.

I am ready to share photos of me as I am now, starting with this week’s Boobday (link to follow). The photo was taken at the end of Eroticon with (I think) 26 other people. I am used to how I look and I accept it. But I am beyond sad about what I have lost and that feeling won’t go away. Even after I have a new boob made of fat from my abdomen.

Mind and body

A two pin plug and socket. The word body at the top and the word mind beneath

During the course of this relationship I and we have had some amazing times. It is definitely the case that I have had more sex during the past 5 years than I had during the previous 30. But we have had some lean periods during that time, when my, his or our mind and body don’t work together. Sometimes the body is willing and able but for emotional or psychological reasons sex doesn’t happen. More frequently though, the problem has been physical.

Emotional and psychological health

We are in the fortunate position that we live together and neither of us are working. This wasn’t always the case and certainly until last summer tiredness was a major factor for me. I had spent a couple of years juggling a demanding job, preparing to move and care for my widowed mum. On top of that were the not to be underestimated effects of the menopause. Feeling exhausted doesn’t necessarily mean sleep comes easily and even if you fall asleep hot flashes and night sweats make you wake again. Additionally, anxiety about the end of my marriage and decisions about the house often caused me to lie awake at night.

Master tends not to be troubled by an inability to sleep. Though from time to time he struggles to get enough sleep, he certainly needs far more of it than me.

Tiredness has interfered with my sexual appetite and for a long time I felt I could take or leave sex. Luckily, Master often wanted to take it and has some ingenious ways of getting me in the mood. Being his slave means that I rarely say no to him, even if I don’t feel much like it. Not because I can’t refuse him, but because I have made a commitment with him which I want to honour. In the past I might have said no and turned over. But now I wait to see how my body responds first. Often, I start to become aroused even if my brain is saying no and when that happens, who am I to deny my body?

Physical health

There is no doubt that physical health problems have got in the way of our ability to enjoy an active sex and kinky life. The first issue we encountered was Master’s frozen shoulder. This made it difficult for him to find a comfortable position on top of me . It also made impact play painful for him. We had to adapt our favoured positions, which led to the purchase of the swing. But really it wasn’t until he recovered that things returned to normal.

A physical effect of the menopause was pain during PIV sex. Luckily this didn’t coincide with the frozen shoulder, when I was often on top. There were times when my vagina would go into spasm as soon as his cock came anywhere near me. This caused pain and a lot of upset. I am so luck that Master is a patient man, who happens to love touching me with his fingers and mouth. Also of course there is plenty I can do with my mouth too. Thankfully those, I think menopause related issues have disappeared and sex is pain free.

Strangely my mastectomy and subsequent treatment have had limited effect on us. Within a couple of weeks of the operation we were able to have sex again, though he was scared of causing me pain. For me, position was an issue and I couldn’t lie on my right side of lean on my right arm. These have mostly resolved, though I still can’t lie on my right side for any length of time.

Our ability to play has probably been affected, partly because we haven’t wanted to go to events while treatment was ongoing. But also because I have been very tired over the past months. Daily trips to the hospital and lack of sunlight over the winter months have affected him too.

Ageing

We intend to grow older together and we now know some of the things we might encounter. His ability to ejaculate frequently is already something that happens. I can come many many times for his once and so we make that one time meaningful. Our bodies take time to recover from exercise and activity. We don’t always have the energy that we think we should.

But recognising the effect of mind and body over our ability to have a fulfilling sex life and relationship bode well for the future. We’ll certainly keep going in whatever way we can for as long as we can.

The touch of our hands

The touch of his hands

I love to feel his hands on my body. When he comes up behind me and takes hold of my waist, my bottom, my breasts in both hands. Or when he strokes my leg while we sit together or even when he takes my hand in his while we watch a film. I love them all.

Best of all though is when he strokes my naked body, the feel of his fingers gently caressing my skin. A gentle, or even hard pinch of the nipple and the way he strokes my clit exclaiming that I am turned on. He feigns surprise and I smile at him in agreement; who would have imagined his touch could excite in this way. I love that he wants to spend time exploring my body, knowing me in a way no man ever has before.

His hands are smooth, he doesn’t do manual work often. This is in contrast to the hands that touched me before. There is nothing wrong with rougher hands, they tell their own story. But I like these, love them in fact. He slides his fingers inside me and then tastes them, he says he loves the scent and taste of me.

I don’t even mind when he touches my feet. I used to be much more ticklish than I am now. Sometimes I sit at one end of the sofa and he at the other, he holds my foot and strokes the instep. I find it arousing.

The touch of my hands

There was a time when he didn’t like to be touched. At the beginning it had been a while for him. But I don’t think that is all it was. While he has always liked to hold hands and to touch me he found me touching him unnerving. He only really liked it if he saw my hands land on him. He loves his nipples squeezed and rubbed when we have sex, that was the start. Now I am able to touch his arms, tummy, legs. Of course his cock was always a different matter he loves that, always did.

I like to touch and stroke him with my fingers, but even now there are times when he prefers I don’t. However he doesn’t complain if I kiss instead. Lips on lips, cock, his neck or nipples. Touch is important and touching him is what I like to do.

I don’t touch myself as much as I once did, particularly in the vulval area. Thus is partly because I have him there to touch me instead. Sometimes he tells me to touch my pussy, instructs me to show him how I make myself come. I enjoy doing this in a way I never imagined I would.

I do stroke my breast and where my other breast once was. This helps to remind me of what I still have but also because I like the feel of it. The softness of my own body, the way it feels different when I touch myself rather than he touches me is always interesting to acknowledge.

Our hands. The way we touch ourselves and each other are an important part of our sexual relationship. Perhaps more important than I previously recognised.

February Photofest