Story of the bee

Is in a rut...

How do I get out of it

My love language is touch

Being touched

Touching you

Its a language i know

Its real

I know when you grab me its real

When you hug me its real

When you fuck my throat its real

When you finger me my response is real

My squirt is physical

My moans are real

You fucking me deep and hard is real

You holding me as we cum is real

Again and again

Use your words to affirm it

But your touch is it

Well that award goes to Acco

I was going to upload a picture but it violates the rules

Basically a gym in said town ran an advert in the local press and it featured a muscly bloke in chains

Where do i sign up

If you think your town is should win the title let me know which town is the kinkiest 

Im musing on my inability to express myself in hebrew

tongue/ language

If you know...you know

And you know my tongue has a language of its own.

I express my desire with my tongue

Deep passionate kisses

It swirls and glides

Carressing deep

 Worshipping in a most intimate way

You are all right. We should be celebrated every day

Why I hear you ask?

On one level you desire us and we offer you a certain magic you crave, a something you cant articulate. That is, worth celebrating.

Ill tell you once and once again

But I dont have to

Its im my touch

Its the way i look at you

My quirky smile

My dirty laugh

The care i give

My careless reackless hedonistic ways

My quiet introverted days

Its that certain something you cannot be without

However..how did half the global population end up with this one day. Take it away my Russian aunties. I do believe women were recognised my Lenin for the role the played in the revolution. Bread and communism. To be celebrated on March 8th in the gergorian calendar

Its definatley political in its origins and women 

In my opinion its a day that needs to be kept and honoured.

Its for all the sisters who have their rights stripped away. From Iran to Afgahnistan  they cant show hair or face

Its,for those giants of the movements thst have granted us civil rights and equality. 

I dont take you for granted

Im proud to stand on the shoulders of 

Emeline Pankhurst

Mary Wollstonecraft

Ada Lovelace

Wi Yu

Rosalind Franklin

Anne Wojcicki

Frida Khalo

Our very own Golda

Mary Seacole

Kate Bush

George Eliot

Marie Stopes

Lilly Parr

Elizabeth Fry

Boudica

Margret Beaufort

Jane Goodall

Grace Hopper

The list goes on. Trailblazers all of them

Yet. Today womens voices are silenced

Rights eroded

Safe spaces taken away

Rapes denied

Not by you or me

But its there

So International Womens day remains a cause of celebration

A reminder that we matter. Not just to the man who makes you quiver but to the world we in habit

If you talk with your cock

I answer with my pussy

If you talk with your brain

I answer with my mind.

If you talk with your soul

I answer with my whole

If you talk with your heart

I answer

Winds howl when they rage. Rain lashes when emotions break through restraint. The weather is not background. It is part of me and my system.

I feel that now. I am in a storm of my own. The noise passes, the sky eventually clears, but the feelings remain, charged in the air, lingering like damp in the walls. Just because the thunder stops does not mean the heart is suddenly calm. Some storms move through us. Others leave debris behind.

Sometimes I am

Blank

Devoid of thought

Blank

Emotions removed

Blank

Empty of soul

Blank

Bring me back to life

Breathe into me

Find a place

Where the space is full

Men

Dont get so excited that you lose control

Is it that exciting

I mean yes it is

Take your time

Maybe I am controlling 

The thought of my sexuality

My kinks

My innocence

Born of experience

And it excites you

I’ve always known there was something powerful in submission. It’s not about weakness, but about trust and the freedom that comes with letting go. For a long time, it felt like this. I acted on this but I was unsure of how to express my needs and desires. I was unsure if it was normal. I was unsure if anyone else felt this way. I mean I am not special, unique or diferent.

But then I read Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, he was the guy from who the term masochist evolved.

I’d already encountered the works of de Sade, which focused on dominance and control, but Sacher-Masoch’s writing spoke to me in a different way. In Venus in Furs, he showed me something I hadn’t quite realised. I realised that submission can be an active choice, a way of finding strength through surrender. His characters weren’t just enduring pain for its own sake. They were choosing it because, in doing so, they were able to experience a deeper emotional release and connection.

What really struck me is that masochism, at least in Sacher-Masoch’s world, isn’t about being passive. It’s about finding freedom in vulnerability, about giving up control while still holding on to your sense of self. For the first time, I felt like someone had written what was in my head, something real and human. Submission, for me, has always been about choosing to surrender, not because you have to, but because you want to. And Sacher-Masoch gave me the words to understand that.