As I wrote here in 2016, mutual masturbation has become a part of my life that is different from what happened before. Now that we live together, all elements of our sex life have moved onto another level. There is more sex and more masturbation. Plus there is more time for fun and games while masturbating.
Slave to the machine
We lay in bed. I was browsing twitter, blog comments, the news. Regular stuff. He was looking at porn, while stroking himself, almost absent mindedly. Or so I thought. Suddenly he turned to me and told me he wanted me to fuck the machine. I was comfortable, warm and happy doing what I was doing, but the idea did appeal. Plus, cock in hand, he was half way out of bed. I rushed to get the machine from the room next door and within moments was hovering above the condom covered dildo. Briefly I stroked my slick vulva, already wet with anticipation and then sat down on the silicone cock. It felt good.
“Go on girl, fuck the machine” He grinned, perching on the end of the bed. I rocked, using the handle to help me ride the thing like a rodeo horse. The dildo moved in and out of me as I rode forward and back. All the time he was stroking himself, and egging me on. He told me I was a slave to the machine, and so I was.
Reaching for his camera, he told me to look at him. It was easy to see that he had me just where he wanted me. I was on the edge of orgasm, the pleasure seeping from every orifice, the pleasure showing in my face. Photos of my face would show me heavy eyed, lustful, lost in my submission as I listened for instructions. The photos he took showed something else, though expressive in themselves.
Afterwards he fucked me on the bed. As is often the case, our masturbation session led to sex. And orgasms.
From time to time I post on facebook a lot. Checking in to bars and restaurants, announcing my departure for and arrival on holiday. Posting daily holiday snaps, often of churches and historical buildings. Friends and family expect this stuff of me. They pull my leg about the number of trips we take and my brothers expect the churches etc. (mainly so they can wind me up). Recently though I have been quieter. For one thing, we have been to fewer interesting places. But mainly it is because I don’t write about breast cancer there.
All of the people who need to know about my recent diagnosis do so. But I feel guilty that I haven’t told some people. For one I couldn’t cope with telling people who aren’t close or I don’t know well. Others it just felt wrong sending a message to give them that information. Last week I felt tempted to write an end of treatment general message, I felt happy and wanted to share. But it would have caused something of a storm, so I didn’t.
There is one place on Facebook I can go to though and that is the Breast Cancer Facebook Group I have joined.
Checking in, support and sharing experiences
Shortly after I had my mastectomy I searched facebook for Breast Cancer related groups and found one that is UK based. Posts now pop up on my timeline on a daily basis. It is very friendly and supportive. It contains practical resources about equipment, lingerie, insurance etc. But respects that there are many types of breast cancer and that everyone’s journey is different. It is a place for people who have or have had breast cancer, but excludes family and partners. This is for a good reason as everyone needs a safe space. Like me, many haven’t told family and friends and are unable to express themselves elsewhere.
As people will know, I couldn’t post the image above on Facebook. Not that I would since I don’t want my family, friends, ex work colleagues and acquaintances to see my bare tit. But anyway photos of breasts are banned so it would get removed quickly and no doubt I would be suspended from the site too. Thank goodness though I can show photos on twitter, though of course that is my secret account and I am not followed there by vanilla friends. We are allowed though, to show mastectomy photos on the breast cancer facebook page.
This is how I know that my mastectomy scar looks similar to others who have had one that is skin sparing. It is also how I know that the red skin I have from radiotherapy is about right and doesn’t warrant a medical opinion. The page has helped me understand the treatment plans that occur for different types of cancer and recognise mine is on a par. This is reassuring stuff.
Doom and gloom
Checking in to the breast cancer page though, can be a bit depressing. There are people of all ages from young women often with little children to those in their 70s and 80s and often have other illnesses. Many people are calm even when frightened about their diagnosis but others are full of panic and anxiety. People don’t read and take account of what has already been said and so the same questions are asked time and again. The journey of diagnosis and treatment are frightening and this is a safe place for people to express their fears. Sadly too, some people have recurrence, or secondaries at diagnosis. There are those for whom this is a palliative journey and that is really sad.
I’m not sure how long I will stay a member of this group. I may already have taken most of what I need. However it is a useful place to go and to know you are amongst others that understand what you have been through. I am lucky that I have a supportive partner, friends and family I can talk to as well as a whole community of sex bloggers. I have my twitter account to post pictures to and rant on if I wish.
This experience with breast cancer has made me think about what I place in the public domain though. Whether it is here on my blog, on my @MPB twitter account or on facebook. That is probably for the best.
During our marriage there were long periods of time when my husband and I abstained from sex. That is we abstained from sex with each other and sometimes I didn’t masturbate either. But were we celibate?
I had a baby and he had an affair
My husband was having an affair when I was pregnant. Of course I didn’t know at the time, else things might have turned out differently. In my 20’s I was less interested in sex than I might have been and I hadn’t even worked out how to masturbate. He strayed because I was a nurse working shifts and he saw an opportunity. But I was often tired and disinterested. Maybe I didn’t actually fancy him all that much.
At 29 I had a baby and he took up my time. Hubby didn’t often ask for sex and I wasn’t too bothered. Over the first couple of years of my son’s life I might have been celibate, to be honest it is difficult to remember. Gradually my body awoke and I wanted it to be satisfied. But until the affair ended he was getting something better with her. I got a vibrator and was no longer celibate. I just abstained from sex.
The less sex you have the less you need it
Orgasms from my rabbit were more satisfying than anything I got from my husband. sometimes I even used it when he had gone to sleep after he had come. He seemed oblivious to the needs of a woman despite the affair. However I found it difficult to forget that he had been with her. The less sex we had, the less it bothered me. There were years when we may have had sex 2 or 3 times.
At this time we were both masturbating, but not together. It is a wonder our relationship lasted anywhere near as long as it did, though we were friendly enough and rarely argued for much of it.
Could I abstain or be celibate now
I have had more sex in the past 5 years than in the rest of my adult life. There was also a period of time before that when I was having sex every 3-6 weeks. Both of these partners were far more experienced than my husband and they have a higher sex drive. I have learned to love and appreciate sex in its many forms and positions. I have discovered the joy of mutual masturbation, something I turned my nose up when married. Though this was mainly because we were rubbish at turning each other on. This is not the case with Master.
We are both in our late 50s now (he later than me), but there is no reason we can’t continue to have sex for as long as we want and are physically able. I don’t think I would willingly choose to abstain from something I enjoy so much.
We have often discussed the paucity of sex in my life before my 50th year and whether I regret anything. I don’t regret meeting, marrying and having a child with the man I loved at the time. I do regret hanging around quite so long when I knew I should get out. However, we make the best decisions we can at the time. What I have now makes up for everything and shows me that celibacy definitely isn’t for me.
This journey of exploration started almost 7 years ago. Knowing I wanted more from life and from sex I dived head first into a world of infidelity, kinky sex, submission and BDSM. Given that Master and I will have been together for 5 years on February 1st this seems a good time to explore what I have learned along the way.
Great sex can’t save a relationship, but bad or no sex can help destroy one
One of the key drivers that led me to stray from my marriage was our almost non existent sex life. That and the fact I didn’t really fancy him any more. I had only had sex with one man and wanted to explore that side of me. Outside of the constraints of that relationship I discovered a whole new world. My husband had quite a low sex drive, and suddenly I was with a man who demanded so much more. I had never had sex that lasted most of the night, rarely sucked a cock and had never actually enjoyed it. Then of course there was the anal sex.
In the long term, a relationship can’t be sustained on sex alone. It wasn’t that S and I didn’t get on together, because we did. We enjoyed doing things together, but differed on expectations of what life might give us. I do enjoy the finer things in life and he was something of a cheapskate (irrespective of whether he had the money to spend or not). I don’t mind admitting I found him something of a know all, sometimes without substance. What’s more we had different ideas about where we were heading and in the end he made the decision for me.
There was no turning back though once I had enjoyed a healthy sex life. So the end of that relationship also proved to be the beginning of the end of my marriage.
Don’t assume you know everything about D/s on the basis of a single relationship
I emerged from the relationship with S imagining I knew everything there was to know. Also that I was more experienced than I actually was. However, what I did know was that I am submissive and want and need someone to give me structure and control.
Within days of meeting Master, I discovered that not all dominants are the same. The intensity of play I experienced on our first few play dates were more than I had known, but I wasn’t phased by it. Maybe in hindsight I should have been and perhaps I should have been more cautious.
However, for the second time I was lucky that I met someone both experienced and kind. We both thought the relationship would be quite casual, but found ourselves attracted in ways that we hadn’t expected.
Polyamory is not for everyone
I’ve never considered myself to be a jealous person, but it turns out I can be. It is also possible for someone you have never met to make your life almost unbearable. If I had known how upset our relationship would make Master’s LDR slave I am not sure he and I would have met in real life. We entered the relationship fully aware of each other, but it didn’t take long for jealousy to raise its head. I’d like to be able to say that it was all her, but really it wasn’t.
We brought out the worst in each other. Both of us wanting to be the most important person in our man’s life. Most of our attempts to engage with each other ended in one or other getting upset. If he had decided to continue with their relationship, ours would have ended. Her mental illness seemed to be projected upon me and I was becoming needy in a way that I had never experienced. I’d like to think that I could share Master with the right other person if he wanted. But I am not sure I could especially if it turned into something long term. Play partners though, that might be something different. But then that is exactly what I was meant to be!
Being owned is just right for me and for us
I have written before about the power Master feels knowing that he owns and controls me. And I revel in the knowledge that I am his slave, owned by him. In many ways we are coming full circle.
In the beginning, when things were new, I often stated that I could feel my submission so clearly that I could almost touch it. That was partly due to the effects of subspace, which was new to me. Being given multiple orgasms and receiving impact play are just two ways this can occur. It puts me into an almost trance like state, leaving the normal world and associated problems elsewhere. This feeling then extended into our life outside the bedroom. Each episode had a beginning and end, usually when one of us went home and normal life resumed. Sometimes I worried about being too needy, especially when we weren’t together.
Now, we spend each day and night together. Our apart time is short, though of course it happens. My submissive feelings aren’t reliant on orgasms, impact play or being told to kneel because they are part of who I am. He is naturally dominant with me. He owns me and what he says goes. Increasingly, I can defer to him, not because of neediness but because I am his property, his responsibility. This gives him the sense of power and it makes me feel safe and protected.
Week 2 of the Erotic Journal challenge is about the discovery of our sexuality and ourselves as sexual beings. This week’s Wicked Wednesday is about the technical aspects of sex. This post will attempt to combine the two.
I first met my future husband when he moved to live opposite us. He was 11 and I was 7. Our mothers were friendly, though not exactly friends. However we did play in each others houses when one of the mums visited for a cuppa. By the time I was a teenager and he was leaving school our mums both worked and so any contact was pretty accidental. I did like him, but he wasn’t one of the boys I fancied back then, they tended to go to my school and he had gone elsewhere.
Soon before my 16th birthday, during the half term before my o’levels he phoned and asked me over to his place to sun bathe. It was a hot May day and his family were out, we sat in the garden and chatted. I didn’t take much account of the heat of the sun and returned home a little burnt. The next day he took me to London for the day. We had fun, walked miles and ate strawberries and ice cream. My usually good appetite deserted me and my tummy was full of butterflies, all day long. The aroma of the soap he used and the aftershave he wore was very alluring. This was the first boy who I think turned me on without actually touching or kissing me. Though of course, within days there were kisses.
Over the ensuing months we spent a lot of time together, both out with friends and on our own and in doors. Spending time in my bedroom alone together was pretty much frowned on and anyway I had an annoying younger brother who tended to burst in. But his parents seemed more relaxed about things. So we often spend hours in his room, lying on the bed listening to music. We never took off all of our clothes but did strip down to underwear, touch and kiss.
“Don’t come back pregnant”
I would lie with his leg between mine and he would flex his quadricep muscle. This believe it or not, was enough to get me off, though I’m not sure if I actually orgasmed. I touched him outside and inside his pants and found the whole thing pretty daring. But we didn’t attempt to have sex. I was pretty happy with what we were doing and didn’t feel the need for more right then.
When I was 17 we decided to take a holiday to Jersey. My parents weren’t overly keen on us going away on our own, but didn’t try to stop us. But on the departure day as we were leaving my mum came to me as I finished packing. “Your dad isn’t happy about you going away with B and all I can say is please don’t come pregnant”
I was pretty indignant. She didn’t know if we were sexually active or not and I didn’t take kindly to the suggestion I was stupid enough to get pregnant. B and I slept together, but didn’t attempt to have sex. The holiday though was fabulous, mainly because we could do what we wanted without parents being present.
The challenges of having sex
In October 1980, another year later, I went off to begin my nursing career. We all lived in tiny rooms in the nurses home and were watched upon by a hawk of a home sister. She was a spinster, who had spent her entire career in nursing and later managing the home. Boyfriends could visit but were meant to be out by midnight. However there were ways to smuggle people in and out and so we ignored that rule.
B was a frequent visitor especially at weekends. At last a door that could be closed and locked. Reasonably thick walls and some anonymity. At last, after 2 years together we finally took the plunge and had actual sex with penetration. Well we tried to anyway, since our first couple of attempts were failures. I owned no toys and had never so much as slipped my own fingers into my vagina. I am not even sure he had either and when it came to trying to sick his hard cock inside me we struggled. We had no real idea about positions or what might work for us and less idea about how difficult (or easy) it should be.
I resorted to consulting with my closest student friend who was already engaged to a sailor and she offered me some friendly advice. Essentially to keep trying and not get frustrated. The following weekend we tried again. Helped along by a bottle of wine and the knowledge that we needed to relax more, eventually we made it happen.
Sex during marriage
Looking back, sex with B wasn’t all it could have been. Soon after we married I bought a copy of the joy of sex which at least offered some help on positions. We tried many and had fun doing so, but I often felt I could take or leave it. My nursing job was demanding and I worked shifts. Even when I was in the mood, there seemed to be something missing but I didn’t know what it was. Within 4 or 5 years he was having an affair with an older woman which for a while helped us, since he had learned some new techniques. But when I discovered the affair my view of him changed. I never again trusted him and I was somehow turned off by him. We carried on having sex for the remainder of our marriage, but not for enjoyment.
When I was in my 30’s I bought my first sex toys and had my first real orgasms. But these happened when I was alone or when he was asleep rather than as something we shared.
I was almost 50 when I first orgasmed during PIV sex and since then I haven’t really looked back sexually. I feel sad about my sex life with B and that we were never able to fulfil each other in the way we should. Perhaps we were never really compatible as sexual partners. Or perhaps the mistake was in carrying on past our 20s. But I don’t regret meeting him or marrying him or having a child together. I just wish we had been better at communicating and been more honest about our needs. Thankfully he has also found someone new and I hope their sex life is better than ours ever was.
So many people have commented and indeed congratulated me on my strength. It is true that I have surprised even myself on how I have coped. Much of it is to do with my personality, the no fuss and drama me (though I can create both when provoked). Also because I like to have information before panicking and try to be optimistic in these matters. But make no mistake having breast cancer was the worst and scariest thing I have ever had to face. Losing one of my lovely breasts has been terrible, I morn it every day. In this post I will try to explain my then and now. There is no need to be sorry about any of this, I don’t need sympathy, just the chance to tell.
Until pregnancy I was quite small busted, but while pregnant they grew and never went down. I always had a good cleavage and many people, men and women have admired it. High necked clothes don’t suit me, my face and neck look too fat in them. I prefer a lower cut dress or top. My bras were all plunging, not padded as they made me look bigger than I wanted, but underwired for support. Not that I was sagging especially; I was told I had great tits for my age (former relationship) and great tits full stop (this one). To me, with my expanding middle and puckered hips, my tits were my best asset.
Once I gained confidence with my blog and began posting pictures of myself, they were often of my breasts. My pierced nipples, me bulging out of a leather waistcoat or wearing a leather harness. Master called them my jugs and played with them a lot. My nipples, especially the right were very sensitive and I have had nipple orgasms more than once. To me my breasts were my best asset and I am fucking angry and mightily sad that I now only have one.
The skin around the wound is soft and smooth, but the scar line itself is kind of puckered with little folds. The area under my arm remains numb and puffy. No one can tell me if and when it will recover. I touch the wound area quite a lot. During the day the area under my bra gets hot and itchy and sometimes I can’t help but rub it. Obviously not out in public but in the comfort of my living room. Lying in bed too, I stroke it. You see, most of the time I can’t really tell I don’t have a boob there and of course neither can anyone else.
I have a silicone prosthesis that fits inside my bra, it looks (and feels according to master) pretty realistic. But you can’t wear this kind of thing with a skimpy bra with a plunging cleavage. This means that I have bought several new bras, but not thrown any of the 15 or more old ones I have away. However I may soon move them into a box under the bed for the future (see below).
Master still loves to play with the breast and nipple on the left side. He strokes and nibbles, pulls and pinches. He also strokes the place where my right one used to be. But it isn’t the same. Even when I am aroused by what he is doing, I am thinking of what I have lost. His fingers on my wound area and surroundings are pleasant, but there is no sexual arousal from it. Instead he concentrates on the left and my other erogenous zones.
The biggest challenge for me now though is looking at other people’s tits. While I still love to look at everyone’s Sunday and other day blog and twitter posts. I can’t help but feel a twinge when I see a lovely pair of tits staring out at me. Likewise looking at old photos of myself makes me happy that I have so many, but sad that there will be no more like them. I also find myself looking for signs of the cancer within, of course there was never any sign.
I know these feelings will pass. It has, after all only been 3 months since the operation and my treatment won’t be completed until the end of this month.
In the future I hope to have a breast reconstruction. To be able to show two breasts to myself, to Master and this little area of the world would be wonderful. I know any reconstructed breast won’t be the same. It is likely that the surgeon will have to reduce the size of the left one, so I would be smaller than before. But I know it is what I want. To be able to wear any bra, or to be able to go braless. Summer days with no bra, that has to be something to aim for.
Before that, well I will try to be as body positive as I can. But don’t imagine that this has been easy or that it ever will be again. I loved my boobs and I will have to learn to love having one again.
Our relationship dynamic, Master / slave can be described as a total power exchange. I, the submissive person have given control for much of my life to my Dominant partner. This has been a gradual process over a period of almost 5 years. While working and living in my own house I always retained at least some responsibility for my needs. While there has been no visible change since I moved in with Master I sense a growth in his power over me, and my submission too.
For many people practicing BDSM is a part time pursuit, something that takes place in the bedroom, a club or dungeon. Where each takes a role, for the duration of that session. There may be rope, or impact play, one might take a dominate role and the other the bottom or submissive. Even perhaps, roles are switched depending on mood and partner. In the early days, we intended our relationship to be more about play. But it soon became clear that we wanted and needed something more. Once he had asked me to be his slave and we had begun to negotiate what that might mean, there was no looking back.
Over the past couple of weeks as the old year came to an end and this new one has started I have been reflecting on our relationship. This has partly come about through writing my end of year blog posts. But also because I have been doing some thinking and reading. Master also bought me a new collar, and just yesterday a ring arrived for my regular one. This will enable him to be able to use a lead more when we are playing.
Thoughts on my submission
Living here with Master has enabled me to give more control of my life to him. Before, I always felt I must retain control financially and of family situations. There was also work, which of course came with responsibilities. Although I am still making decisions about what I want to do, I am doing less telling and more asking about them. I have my own money and I can and do spend it. But we are living in his house and there is more dependence on my part. While this may have scared the life out of me in the past, it no longer does. Indeed it fills me with pleasure.
My illness has shown me that it is ok to rely on another for support and yes, decision making. But the funny thing is, I don’t feel the need to take the control I have given up back from him. Indeed, I can see myself giving up more and more. This is strange, since I didn’t even realise I had more to give.
For a long time I have resisted some of the signs of submission Master asked for. Ones related to dress (wearing underwear), my hair length and getting a tattoo, spring to mind, but there are others. It feels though that this year I should take the plunge and open myself up to becoming the slave I know he desires.
Thoughts on his dominance
Power is the major driver for Master. When we play, it is the very fact that my body reacts in the way it does, to his body and the toys he uses, that drives him. During sex, he loves that he can control me and my orgasms. He loves that he can call me names such as bitch and it excites me. Me being his property is something that we both acknowledge and that enables his dominance to shine though. In those moments I am slave, MPB, this girl.
When I gave myself to him totally I also gave my limits. We had agreed what they were and as we moved along the power exchange continuum I realised that he could and should own them. I can still call red (though I haven’t) and he will stop. My consent has been given for Master to make the decisions in the bedroom, playroom and in life. But importantly this is reaffirmed regularly. He does so in such a way that I must state that my limits belong to him and uttering those words make him feel more dominant. Nothing makes me happier.
I know this isn’t a relationship for everyone. I didn’t even know it was for me and indeed I do question it myself from time to time. But 2019 definitely feels like the year for an exploration into how far this dynamic might take us.
This year, more than most I can remember has been a time of immense highs and unbelievable lows. It has also been one of great change. For so long I talked about making those changes and there were many times that I thought they would never happen. This blogging year has also been one of highs and lows, a year where my writing has developed and grown but also one when I almost lost my blog. There is so much to write about this year and so many people to thank and mention so here goes.
The year started in a bit of a whirlwind as I supervised the packing and moving for my mum. There was over 30 years worth of stuff in her large 3 bedroom house. The concept of downsizing was completely alien to her and consequently this was a stressful time for me and my brothers. She tended to sit watching it happen, then complain when we threw things out she later said she wanted. On moving day, she took more furniture than it was physically possible to put into her bungalow. So more pain followed.
In the midst of all of that, it was difficult to find time to blog or be particularly sexy. As is often the case the memes (Wicked Wednesday, Sinful Sunday, Kink of the week and SoSS kept me going). This year I have learned that writing about something is better than not writing at all. This month too, I joined the Smut Marathon (more of that later).
This post pretty much highlights that sex and kink was a bit lacking in our lives at the beginning of the year. Not entirely surprising given the whirlwind of January. At that time we were also planning for me to move in with him and had begun to get the house ready. Once again meme’s kept the blog going including TMI Tuesday, Food for Thought Friday and Art Twist. Indie and I have discussed bringing the latter back to life and maybe we will do that in 2019. I only recently realised that Kilted Wookie runs F4TF and it took a while to realise also that we had all week to write a post based on the prompt. Sometimes I am pretty slow on the uptake!
At the end of the month, while away for a weekend I managed to delete my blog! I still shudder when I think about how it happened and the work required to put it back together. Thankfully Dom Signs was there to help, I am so grateful to him. The full horror story is here.
This photo was taken hours before my blog went down and so didn’t appear until 3 March. It brings back the better memories of that weekend. In this post I write some more about the blog, but also for the first time about participating in the smut marathon as well as sex and coffee (all important things).
Our sex and kink life was at last on the up. In this Masturbation Monday post I describe some impulsive kinky sex and later in the month our first public play event. I haven’t contributed to Masturbation Monday as much as I would have liked to this year. Mainly because my sex blogging libido has been a little off kilter. But I did have the pleasure of meeting Kayla Lords and her husband John Brownstone at Eroticon. I followed John’s blog first and clearly remember the run up to Kayla moving to be with him which was so exciting. Together they have become quite a force to be reckoned with in the blogging (and podcasting) community.
Eroticon was a wonderful weekend of fun and laughter, plus some amazing sessions at the conference. Apart from Kayla and John we met so many other bloggers and writers that were previously words and pictures on a screen. Marie and Master T, May More, Posy, Eye, Cousin Pons to name but a few. I wrote about it here.
Once again I joined in with the Blogging A-Z challenge. Although there are 31 posts for April, which is getting on for a record I still had to combine some of the A-Z daily posts. Keeping with a mainly kink theme, the posts can be found here.
For the Wicked Wednesday post on Driving Lessons, I wrote about my rather unpleasant driving instructor. I guess this is my Me too incident; thankfully mild, though as you could tell it has stayed with me.
In April we travelled to Seville for the Feria celebrations and had a wonderful week of rest and recuperation. Seville is one of those places that we have pretty much seen and done but return to. The relaxed lifestyle, long lunches, dinners in several parts suits us.
By May, preparations for my move were in full swing. Our weekends were filled with decluttering, house maintenance and beginning to pack. However we did manage to find time for some fun and games. It had been a while since Master bought his girl a tail, but I hadn’t really had the chance to wear it. Until now.
The Smut Marathon moved onto round 5 and to my surprise I was still in the competition. As I mention in my post about round 4, my editing skills were coming under pressure. I tended to write pieces that were much longer than needed, sometimes 4 times as long. Since being out of the competition I have started to try to write stories that are already short and so need less editing. The Smut Marathon was a wonderful competition and I am grateful to Rebel for all her hard work in making it the success it was and will be again.
Hy from A Dissolute Life Means challenged herself and others to Post Every Damn Day in June. I got off to a good start even though at the time I was on holiday in Slovenia. Much of the country is under developed, with beautiful lakes, hills and mountains to explore. A great opportunity for some natural photo opportunities. While away I participated for the first time in Hyacinth’s regular meme: Boobday. I look at my contribution with some sadness as this is the boob I no longer have. The cancer was already growing inside me, though I didn’t know it. I do hope to participate again soon, but more of that in the post I am going to write about the coming year.
There was one final trip away (for a weekend) before the end of June, providing a great Sinful Sunday opportunity. After that, life was crazy as we prepared for my move.
The weather was wonderfully hot. A proper English heatwave. Probably not what you need when you are spending much of your life packing boxes. On one of the last weekends spent before the move, we frolicked in the garden. Not only did I run around naked but we also had anal sex out there. My anxiety about the neighbours seeing anything dissipated under the influence of a bottle or two of wine.
The rest of July is a mad blur. I didn’t post anything of substance until 26th. After the antics in the garden I developed a urinary infection (perhaps the two are linked) and needed antibiotics. Then as soon as I was recovered I moved house. I wrote about it all here. To be honest, I was pretty glad to see the back of July.
August was about finishing up at work. Luckily, with many people away on holiday the roads and railways were quiet, though London was as usual busy. There were few meetings so I was able to declutter my work environment in a reasonably calm way. I had a wonderful send off from colleagues and left on 31st. I also started to reorganise my blog a little, ending one journey page and starting another.
As we gradually settled into our life together we began to rekindle our kinky sides and also had some fun.
All through August I was waiting for the inevitable. I revealed at my mammogram early in the month that I had found a lump in my breast and knew I would be recalled. The first date I was given was for 31st August, but as this was my final day at work I asked for a later appointment. So on 11th September Master and I spent the entire afternoon at a one stop breast clinic. We came away already knowing that cancer was suspected, but had to wait a week for confirmation. The following day I travelled to Cyprus with my mum with a massive plaster on my boob. Over the coming days a huge bruise formed.
Cyprus was beautiful though. Hot sunny days and warm evenings. Even my mum and my attempts to hide my bruising didn’t spoil it. But I really did miss Master and wrote about my longing for him here.
On my return I received the news that we had been both expecting and dreading. I had breast cancer.
I think we saw the inside of more hospital wards and departments than I experienced in the first 3 months of my nursing career. Master was beside me the whole way and has been my rock and guiding light ever since the first appointment. Our hopes of a lumpectomy were dashed as the tumour was too large. So on 15th I had a mastectomy.
Many blog and twitter friends and followers have congratulated me on my positivity in coping with the surgery and aftermath. While I wanted to catalogue my journey and will continue to do so, I didn’t seek to make it seem easy. The operation was straightforward, but the recovery painful and frustration. I wasn’t the best patient, I don’t think nurses usually are. But I was determined not to succumb to self pity and so I guess that is why it came across that way. I started a series of regular posts about my recovery which will continue for as long as necessary.
I felt ready on 11th November to give Sinful Sunday followers a glimpse of my new body. I always knew that I was part of a body positive group of people but have been overwhelmed by the support. None more so than from Molly and that is why I chose Sinful Sunday for this post. Being able to go to the munch that Molly and Signs run and speak openly to others including Sub Bee has really helped. I am looking forward to getting together with Molly in the new year so she can photograph me lots more.
Thank you to everyone who has commented on here, sent me emails and messages on twitter. I know too that Master has found the support from this community to be a really positive thing.
A month of end of year lists and reviews, and I find myself on so many. After everything that has happened this year, I am overwhelmed. Looking back over my blog, I can see that it has been a good year for my writing.
Thank you to those who nominated me for the Kinkly and Chaturbate top sex blog lists. Thank you to May More for the wonderful messages of support and for including me on her Top of the Blogs list. To Floss, who named me as one of her top 20 Lovelies. To Kilted Wookie for putting me on the Naughty List, to Master Venture for including me on his list of people worth following and to Marie Rebelle for including me on her Top 20 of ’18. I am incredibly honoured to have been recognised by so many of the wonderful people I admire in this community.
Thank you to everyone who has read my blog this year and to those who have commented and supported me. Here’s to 2019 – more of that to come.
This week of the year is always a busy one. Last minute shopping, Christmas present wrapping, cooking for and entertaining family to mention just a few things. This year has been a little different and certainly those differences will extend to the end of this week. On Saturday my son marries his girlfriend of more than 4 years at a small ceremony in London. So, this year’s festivities have that added extra excitement.
Unlike other years the run up to Christmas was calm. Not working has made all the difference and so shopping and preparing was straightforward. Also different is that my mum is now living 100 miles away and needed collecting to spend Christmas with my younger brother and his family.
We set out on Christmas eve with a car full of presents and travelled over to her. Then we all spent the evening with my elder brother and family, including two excited 4 year old boys. We had a lovely time with pizza and wine and also playing games and toys with the children. Yesterday we travelled back with mum and dropped her off before having a quiet afternoon and evening on our own. For the third year in a row we cooked beef wellington for dinner, rather than the traditional turkey. It was lovely. We also ate in the evening rather than at lunchtime.
This afternoon we are eating in a pub with family. My younger brother, partner and her mum, son and nearly wife, and my mum.
Then on Saturday the wedding. I have my outfit at the ready. I have booked mum into a hotel for a few nights as we don’t have the space here right now. It will be a small event, with just a few family and friends but it will be fantastic, I just know it. A fitting end to what has been a difficult year, not just for me but for the wider family too. I’ll write more about that when I review the year over the next couple of days.
So this year’s Christmas festivities have somewhat broken with tradition and I am really pleased they have. It is so easy to get into a routine and always do things the same way. My mum has struggled since my dad died because of that. We have found it difficult as a family to find a new normal. But maybe it is a good thing not to create such a thing, and instead to take things as they come and to just enjoy the time you have together. It feels less stressful that way.
Since I gave up work at the end of August I have had much more time just to be. To think, to write, to cook and to have sex. But to be honest, I haven’t really used the time I have to full advantage. There are many reasons for that.
It has been a busy year. Starting with my mum’s move in January at times I have been like a whirling dervish. Clearing out and packing up at her old house then helping her move was a crazy time. This was followed by clearing out and packing up at my place and then moving in with Master in July. By then I was working my notice and apart from a moving day, I had no holiday days left during that 3 month period.
Since then I have had plenty time to rest. The enforced slow down brought on my my cancer diagnosis has been a blessing. For a few weeks I had little energy and lacked motivation. This was I imagine, my body’s way of telling me it needed to repair. So, I had little choice to give in. And it has served me well as I feel better in myself than I have done for ages. I don’t always sleep well at night, but now I can sleep in later this is less of a problem. I also feel less stressed about things like managing my mum. Indeed my illness has helped her to rely on me less.
A new environment
It has taken time to get sorted in my new home. Master still has work to do in sorting out some of the clutter. This means that not all of my stuff has found its way from the garage to the house. But many of my kitchen gadgets are now in place and I intend to use them. When I brought the Christmas decorations in at the weekend I also found some cookery books. So, no excuse but to get cracking on producing more interesting things in the kitchen.
Blogging and writing
I have found the time to do more writing and have spent more time thinking before I write. For one thing, I have just completed a piece of paid (professional) work and am invoicing for that this week. I plan to look for some work in the spring, but am wondering how I might take a different approach. Whether in the future I could write for money rather than needing to work in an office environment. Certainly something to explore for the future.
As for the blog, well the additional time means I am keeping up with writing regularly. The next thing though is to plan more. Having the headspace to think about writing is much more important than I realised. So when I am not writing, even if you can’t see anything I am thinking (unless I am on twitter, and then I am engaging).
I have bought myself a freelance planner and will be using it for my writing plans, paid and unpaid.
Sex and play
We have had more time for sex and in the main we have used it well. We have been more sexually active especially in the past few weeks. It is likely there will be a lull in the new year, when I have my radiotherapy treatment. But I am sure we will get back on track quickly. We have only played the once since August and that was at the fem sub social we went to a few weeks ago. We definitely need to make more time for play.
It is unusual for us that we haven’t been away since our time in Oxford post surgery. But we have plans to travel to warmer climbs as soon as the radiotherapy is finished. It feels a wonderful luxury to be able to do this and not worry about time off work. We also have plans for an extended trip to France in the summer.
I always imagined that after I stopped working time would drag. But it really doesn’t. Doing things at a slower pace and not rushing about help this. That isn’t to say that I don’t still have my moments. But I am enjoying having more time to just be me.