My body and me

I have always had difficult relationship with my body. I spent years believing I was fat and so hiding it away. Only to discover later, while looking back at old photos that I was slim. By then of course I’d put on a few stones. Before my pregnancy I had pretty small tits, but they grew and grew and thankfully stayed that way, even after I had breastfed.

Master says he likes my body, and that he wants something to grab hold of. I believe him and am comfortable in my own skin when I am around him. I love that he finds me sexy and arousing, even though I struggle to see it myself.

My mum has never held back from showing off her body. My son recently remarked that he found going holiday with nan a bit embarrassing, especially when she sunbathed topless. I never did so around him, partly after getting burnt in my youth, but mainly to avoid his blushes. Also, I thought I was fat, even when i wasn’t.

Hiding

Last Wednesday I arrived in Cyprus with my right breast covered in 2 large dressings. The day before, I attended a screening one stop clinic where I had 2 areas biopsied. A small area of calcium deposits was detected on the mammogram taken last month. The breast lump I had already found wasn’t seen on the xrays. I’m a nurse and I didn’t realise that would be the case. After much prodding, poking and an ultra sound scan, the area was biopsied. I still have a massive bruise to show for it.

The dressing was visible above my top, but if mum noticed it she said nothing. Sitting on the plane beside her, I wondered what I should say. As is often the case between she and I my decision was to say nothing. If the biopsies are negative she doesn’t need to know. However, since we are sharing a room this has presented a problem. And has led to me scurrying into the bathroom to dress, change and undress. It is a completely different situation to how things would be if I were home or indeed Master were here.

My reticence about speaking of my biopsy, of showing my body to others and in particular my mum exposes a deeper issue. She is not good with other people’s problems, she certainly managed to make my dad’s illness about her. But also we tolerate each other rather than enjoy each others company. Earlier in the week she actually described me as her carer, which I guess this week, I am.

But my inability to speak about the biopsy is also about me. It is about me coming to terms with changes in my own body. This summer I have developed a number of problems, including the lump. I am not healing as i did, bruises are taking longer to fade and disappear and there is something not right.

I don’t know if this is cancer or not, I will know on Thursday. But if it is, there will be no more hiding. If all is well, then maybe I need to take some lessons from this experience and value my body more. It’s the only one I have.

Longing

After almost 2 months of living with Master i find myself far away from him, on holiday with my mum. Suffice to say, I am missing him. This post is about the things I am longing for

To begin with I was worried that I had lost something of my identity, that caring role I both love and despise. But very soon we settled into our own new routine of cooking, eating and clearing up together. In my previous life, I decided what to cook prepared it and then cleared away. This life is different already, those decisions are being made and enacted together. This may seem like nothing, but in my experience it paves the way for much much more. Evenings spent together snuggled on the sofa watching TV, or sitting separately reading, discussing current affairs or listening to music, lost in our own world.

I am missing that feeling of closeness and easy silence. But also the sex, the kink and erotic times that are ever present in our lives. Sleeping in a single bed and waking up next your mother just doesn’t feel the same. I long to feel his body pressing against my back as I stir in the early morning stillness. I want to feel his cock grow and harden as it pushes against my lower back. His hand resting on my breast. To know he is awake because he has stroked me or squeezed a nipple.

I long to hear his voice, to ask ‘did girl sleep well?’ To see his eyes gleam when I tell him I need to pee. Knowing he wants to watch, or even have me pass my gold onto his body as he sits in the bath. I miss the way Master seems to be reading a business article online, but them starts to wank himself and when I lean in to see, he has switched to porn. Sometimes when I lay pretending to sleep he is wanking, irritatingly shaking the bed. I like to complain he is stopping me sleeping. He laughs and tells me he is getting ready to service his girl. How I would love to be used by him today.

I want to feel his hands on my body, his fingers exploring my holes, his tongue on my clit. To know his cock is rubbing against my piercing. That little jolt of almost pain as he pushes into my tight cunt. I would love those things right now.

Instead I am here, on a sunbed in Cyprus while my lover is at home. The brownie points I am earning from my mum mean though that when I get home we will hopefully be left in peace. For at least a little while. In a few days, the longing will be over and I will be in his arms. Them I may well fleetingly wish to be back here, in the sun. But perhaps with him!

Some day

So many things that I wanted to do have become reality. The fact that Master and I are living together, that we have the time to do the things we want together is wonderful. Last weekend we attended our third CMnf – Clothed Male, naked female – event. This time I was so relaxed about everything that I had no hesitation in getting stripped off straight away. I wore nothing all afternoon other than a lovely chain harness that we bought at BBB a few weeks ago. I love the way it frames my breasts – there will definitely need to be a photo on the blog soon. 

But this week I have had cause to reflect on the concept of waiting to do things ‘some day’s versus getting on and doing them now. For two years Master and I spent time working on my house and garden. I know this because over the past couple of months  numerous posts have reappeared on Facebook. Repairing the shed, painting fences, decluttering, painting walls. The same with women, for a long time I knew I had had enough but that moving house and giving up work would have to happen around the same time.

Those things have now happened and our time is our own. Now we can plan for new dreams, a new some day. Well hopefully yes. But as I lay on a doctor’s couch on Tuesday having a lump in my breast biopsied, I did consider that perhaps we should now just do what we want when we want to. My dream of having more time to myself didn’t involve breast cancer treatment, and maybe it wont come to that. I will know next week.

I now wonder about the 2 years of procrastination, of doing things right for my ex. I wonder if I should have been harder faced and concentrated more on what we needed for us. There is no turning back, butmaybe a realisation that thinking you’ll do things some day is the wrong approach. If you can, do it now.

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Taking a risk

Up until my 50th birthday approached, I had taken few risks, well certainly not ones involving sex and relationships. As I’ve mentioned a number of times before, at that time I was living with my husband of nearly 30 years, the only man I’d had sex with. On a couple of occasions when bored, lonely or both I had chatted online or on the phone to men. I even met one guy, but he was unable to have sex, just as well really since I didn’t fancy him. He became a friend for a while and there were certain benefits, such as some good orgasms. I guess technically I was cheating on my husband, but I told myself that unless actual intercourse took place it was ok.

When I started chatting to S though, everything changed. For the first time I was sexually aroused and attracted to a man I had never met. Over the course of a couple of weeks I found myself doing things to please him. Weird since usually I dressed and did things for myself. I wanted to meet this man, but didn’t know how to make it happen. I lived 2 hours by car from him, was married and worked full time. He on the other hand had no transport other than his work van, and that belonged to the company. By luck I was due to go on a course in London for 2 days, though there was no real reason to stay over. So I invented one, the course was intense and everyone else was staying over. Why my husband believed me, I don’t know, other than that he trusted me.

So it was that at the end of the first day of the course I made my way to a hotel in a small town south of London, by train. When I arrived at the station it was raining, there were no taxis, I had no idea if there was a bus and S was still travelling from work. I got out my phone and walked in the rain the mile or so to the hotel, which was really a pub with rooms. This was one of S’s favourite things, a small hotel or B&B, no chance then of invisibility. Thankfully the receptionist was expecting me and S had paid in advance. I went up to the room.

It was at this point that I fully understand the potential danger I was putting myself in. I was going to meet, have sex with and sleep with a stranger. No one knew where I was and I had no means of getting away quickly. But I was excited by the prospect of these things too. A crazy middle aged woman who should have known better.

But actually it was ok. I had a shower and changed into the clothes he had asked me to wear. S arrived and I went to the bar while he showered, then he joined me. Admittedly it wasn’t much later before the clothes were off and we were having sex. It was my choice and I don’t regret it. I did however take a massive risk.

Journey’s end?

This journey

Yesterday I had some time to sit and think about my blog. About the journey I began over 6 years ago when I started writing. I pondered whether that path had reached its conclusion. At the beginning I had no idea where I was going, if anywhere. All I knew was that I needed something different in my life. Something more than I had then. I understood this was to be a journey and thought I would know when I had arrived.

The two relationships that were in place back then are history. Extracting myself from my marriage of 30+ years has proved harder than I imagined. That journey has been painful and emotionally draining. But he is now happily living in what was our home with his (not so) new partner. Recently I attended his mum’s funeral and saw them together. It was clear that they have a strong relationship, something he denied to me for a long time.

Last night I mentioned to Master that I wasn’t sure about continuing this blog, because my journey is complete. But is that true? For him, my moving in to his home as his 24/7 slave has greater meaning than I understood.

Being his Slave

Over the past few months I had almost forgotten about that element of our relationship. Of course, I wear my collar and cuff and my piercings are a constant physical reminder. Our sex life is always a reminder of the M/s nature of our relationship. But during the busy and very hot days of June and July we didn’t have loads of sex. Preparations to move meant we spent lots of time at my place, but we were busy and everything we did was about working towards the move.

The first week or two were a period of adjustment but gradually we are settling into something of a routine. Only now though am I able to see the subtle changes that are coming to be. Even as I considered whether I wanted to write my blog any more, even as I uttered the words about the journey, I knew.

Over the past couple of years being Master’s slave has in the main been about what we do in the bedroom or play room. Not about our every day life. I am, as he often tells me an unruly slave. Rebellious, open with my thoughts and feelings, often pushing back against any attempt to control me. That’s easy when you have your own home and don’t live together. Also when you are financially secure and don’t need to rely on another.

Now though things will be different and what I have discovered is that he is excited by this. He loves the fact I am here with him, he wants to have more control over me. Also that I will be more financially dependent on him (though I have my own money and may yet get another job). He enjoys taking care of me, cooking and so forth. I also want to take care of him, and find my submissive self reawakening.

We had some very hot sex last night and again this morning. It is often during those moments of heightened arousal and passion that the truth is spoken. I clearly saw in myself, particularly last night a need I had forgotten existed. Over the coming weeks I fully expect to need to articulate this much more. What better place to do so than here on my blog.

The end of the journey? I don’t think so.

What you see is what you get

This week, Food For Thought Friday has asked about anonymity online;  to what extent do we hide (or indeed show) who we really are.

As those who know me in real life, or have met me at some event will know, I am reasonably open and out there. The person I write about is completely me, since fiction is not really my bag. Stories are often based on me, or my fantasies. Which is probably why they lack excitement and drama.

Julie really is my name, though MPB isn’t. Well it is to one person and he doesn’t need to read anything to know who I am. I wasn’t creative enough to develop my own clever pseudonym and anyway wasn’t all that troubled about people knowing my name is Julie. Of course there are a lot of people, mainly of a similar age with my name and so I can remain relatively anonymous. If you knew my surname, that would be different, I am the only one of me on Facebook and I have never met another. There is no need for anyone on my blog or Twitter to know my surname, unless I am buying something from them.  For the Smut Marathon I gave myself the name Jones, which goes reasonably well with Julie.

As I grow older, and as my career comes to something of a close, I am less worried about discovery as a sex and kink blogger. No one is going to sack me now. However I do have people to protect, those who wouldn’t want to know and definitely wouldn’t understand. So, best I retain that final bit of anonymity. After all, it will also serve as protection to me, from myself.

One of the questions asked as part of this was: is your anonymous/pseudonymous online self a secret or more a form of protective “camouflage”?

The answer is probably the latter.  I show much of myself on my blog (in words and pictures) and am open about who I am to those who meet me. But still I wish to retain something of a screen. Yes camouflage.

Settling in

Another Saturday and another day spent sorting and unpacking things in the summer heat. Settling in to my new life is going to take time.

On the whole, I am enjoying coming in from work and having my dinner cooked for me. No need to decide what to cook or eat, no worries. And yet, I am not sure that is how I want my life to be. Nor, will it be like this as we move forward. I had a slight moment on Wednesday when I panicked about having no role. But in truth it is part of readjusting to life as it is now. Anyway, within a month things will be different.

I am now in the final month of my notice period. I have begun to sort files, delete old stuff and tie up loose ends. Luckily the person taking on my job is someone I know and work with so the hand over should be straight forward. The good byes will be more difficult and the leaving do a little poignant. We are going to look at a possible venue after work on Monday, my birthday.

Moving on

This month really is one of good byes and moving on to a new life. Yesterday was my mother in law’s funeral. For the first time in 4 or 5 years, I saw my father in law and my ex’s family. While a sad occasion, as she died suddenly, it was also pleasant. I enjoyed seeing everyone and chatting to people I was once quite close to. I came away feeling that this was all part of ending my old life and moving on to the new one. Another part of settling in.

Perhaps things happen as they do for a reason.

So, to this blog.

For the whole time I have been writing it, the blog has been about a journey. About self discovery, about moving on and finding my place in the world. Latterly it has been about finding my slave place, about our sex and kink life.

There is still more of that to do, but this feels like a defining time for me. Will the focus of the blog change? Will I write about different things? What do I actually want to write about?

The past month has been a whirlwind of a time. We have been so busy that there has been precious little sex and kink. There has been no real time to write the blog, even if I had felt inclined. Now though I need to get myself back on track, probably through some of the memes.

Please though, dear reader, bear with me while I find my new place. While I am settling in to my new role, find time and the words to write.

I sense there will be exciting times and lots to say.
Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Reconnecting

This photo was taken on holiday last month as we lay together on the bed after a bath. This tender moment is reflective of some time we have been able to share this week.

As mentioned in my previous post, I moved in to Master’s house this week. After probably 3 years of planning and preparations the moment finally arrived. We are getting used to being together full time. I am still working at the moment, so there are times a part but by the end of August we will be together much more.

For me, this week has been about finding places to put my stuff and adapting to my new life.  I am happy to be in this position, but know it will take me a while to properly settled in my new life. However, I have come home to him of an evening and we have eaten dinner and also enjoyed a couple of jacuzzi baths together.

For him though, I can see this is about something a little more profound. As Master he wants his slave with him 24/7. He wants to be able to care for her and to have her there to use as he wishes. This weekend, I know he feels that his slave has arrived and from now on life can be as he wants it. We are both practical people, and neither of us are living in some kind of romantic dream world. But moments like the ones we had this morning when he was able to reclaim me in the way he wants and likes are important. There was no photo of that time and the one above is about as close as I can give right now.

Sinful Sunday

New life

I feel embarrassed that I have written nothing of any note on my blog during the whole of July. Today, it is already 26th and other than 3 sinful Sunday posts, nothing.

But, I have excuses, good ones.

This week our new life together has begun. As of Tuesday this week, two whole days ago, we are co-habiting here in His house. That is to say I have a new home and it is going to take some getting used to.

The past few weeks have passed in a blur. Earlier in the month I hired a skip. My brother and son came over and we spent a day filling it with things in the house that were surplus to requirement. It was a big skip and there was a lot of stuff. It was a happy, fulfilling weekend and I was satisfied at the end of it that I was on track.

Then I got ill. I followed advice on the NHS website, delayed seeking medical help and then was denied antibiotics. Apparently I didn’t have an infection. Except I did. So, I lost a week from work, from preparing to move and from being able to do much at all.

Last weekend then turned into a mad rush of packing the last things, then getting ready for the actual move.

He and I have worn ourselves out this week. The temperatures have been stupidly hot and we have had no time to enjoy the weather. Tuesday went smoothly but at the end we were exhausted and I went back to work on Wednesday.

This weekend we can take stock. Unpack and properly get ourselves sorted. It will be a little while before I am ready to blog properly again. There is much I want to and will say, but not yet. However, we are here and we are here together. Our new life together has begun.

Release

The photo for this week’s wicked Wednesday feels very poignant and so I am using it here. After 6 years of writing my blog, of sometimes living a lie but mostly waiting I will soon be free. A butterfly about to be released, to fly away.

My husband was unfaithful to me within 2 or 3 years of our marriage. A relationship that continued for 7 years. After I found out and came to terms with the reality. After also the decision was  made to continue with the marriage I made a deal with myself. Essentially I decided if, by the time my son (who was about 3 or 4 at the time) had grown up, I wasn’t happy, I would leave the marriage. For many years I forgot about it and just lived in the moment, it wasn’t as if we were always unhappy because we weren’t.

But the memories sat on my shoulder and every now and then something happened or words were spoken that reminded me. And one day soon after my son, now grown up, left for university I realised that the time had come.

I felt trapped. The good daughter wife and mother who realised she was living a lie.

Fast forward

Today, about 7 years later and 5 since I was first unfaithful to my husband I am preparing to break free. At last.

If I had my life over again I would do things differently, maybe.

I stayed in the marriage because I thought it was the right thing for my son and because I was scared. It took me years to build the confidence to explore and to become the person I am. Maybe too, the person I needed to be with also had to be in the right place, right time.

Within a month I will have moved from my home of 27 years. I will be with my lover, my Master, the man I want to be with. In 9 weeks I will have left my job and have some space, to be me.

Meantime there is a lot to do. Life is going to be busy and tiring. I am probably going to struggle to cope and will probably say and do things that might later be regretted. Though I hope not.

It is time for me to be me. The future beckons and if I just flap my wings enough I will be that butterfly with the wind in her wings. Ready to land in my new home. With Master.

Footnote:

This came up on my repeat posts on Twitter today. Looking back defining moment

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked