In the Pink

I begin with a quote from that wisest of prophets, Douglas Adams (ז"ל):

"The History of every major Galactic Civilization tends to pass through three distinct and recognizable phases, those of Survival, Inquiry and Sophistication, otherwise known as the How, Why, and Where phases. For instance, the first phase is characterized by the question "How can we eat?" the second by the question "Why do we eat?" and the third by the question "Where shall we have lunch?""

Following on from my expose of the connection between "How I Got Into BDSM" and my fabulous (yet to the untrained eye normal-if-voluptuous) breastage, my aim in this post is to examine the How, Why and Where phases of me -- Lilly the Pink Tabby and Teutonic Temptwess -- in the world of BDSM.

Why am I here? Simple. I'm a pervert. It's such a shame that the word has such a negative connotation, when in reality what it means is "alternate" or "different". To pervert the course of justice, for example, is to take it along a very different path from that which it was intended. Thing is, I never thought I was a pervert. I thought i was a weird chick, with fabulous tits (that did nothing for her in any sexual context), and a penchant for strange rape fantasies.

I could never speak about any of this to anyone I knew because if I did they'd think I was certifiable, and send for the men in white coats. I realise now, what with retrospect being 20:20 and all, that the reason I had rape fantasies was because it was the only cultural frame of reference in which I could fit my innermost desires of pain, violence, and restraint in any positive manner.

And since anything even vaguely resembling kinksters, or S&M (as it was known in those days) or anything abnormal or weird-seeming was not something that nice good religious Jewish girls did or associated themsleves with.

Heh, how wrong can a person be?

How did I get here? Well, to cut a long story short, after an eight-year dearth of sex in any shape of form, my sex drive suddenly re-awoke and I fell in love for the first time, with a kinky transvestite who lived overseas.

And so I was introduced to the world of kinky sex, and I realised that I'd been holding myself back for years, because i was conditioned from childhood to be that nice Jewish girl... i'm still all of the things I was brought up to be -- and also a raging pervert. In the nicest possible way.

😄

That was how I got here, or rather, that was portal through which i started on a voyage of discovery, upon which I am still engaged -- each day brings me something new to learn and at which to marvel.

The where question -- well, how would you define that? Where am I going? Where indeed, Douglas my old mucker, are we having lunch? (I vote for sushi.) Fuck knows. All I know is that as the journey goes on and the path I follow develops becomes longer, and more exciting, so I become more true to myself.

Long may it continue.

(Probing questions in comments will be answered seriously and at length.)

All my "כמה צופים בי" numbers have disappeared from the 1st, 2nd and 3rd of January.

That SUCKS. I had loads, too.

Bassa.

Kibinimat.

I am a blogwhore, and I loves my numberz.

Bring back my numberz!!!

Grrr.
😄

I know you'll think I'm mean, but I absolutely couldn't resist sharing this.

Once, many moons ago, I signed up for a naughty dating website.

I'm still on it, and I get updates from them about the "hotties" in the surrounding 5000 mile radius that I configured as my gene pool resource space, which occasionally I like to read because the thrill of simultaneously hooting with laughter as I spurt milk out through my nose has never really lost its charm for me.

😄

This was today's gem -- one that, in my humble opinion, is up there as one of the best self-descriptions of any man hoping to get laid by any number of faceless far-away women who are probably all men anyway.

"40 year old man from essen,poland. "I have legs, arms and head and 10 fingers""

LOL!!

That is all. Normal service will be resumed shortly, as soon as I wipe up all this milk.

N.B. Is it just me who noticed that he doesn't include a body in the list of his assets? How is all that stuff (arms, legs, head) hanging together? I think we should be told. 😄

The girls are as much a part of me as any other, but since they protrude somewhat more that certain other areas, they are more distinct and noticeable.

Well, they do protrude from my body rather, it isn't exactly easy to miss them. 😄

Not that I give people much opportunity to miss them. In real life, they're out there, real and spectacular. In virtual life, they're out there on camera -- check out my profile on Fetlife, if you don't believe me. They're the stars of the show. They even make the occasional appearance here on my little corner of the Cagey blogosphere.

Heh.

What I realised today, in conversation with a friend and fellow pervert, was that it was the Girls who got me into BDSM. No, seriously.

I shall explain for you, gentle reader -- from your puzzled look and audible "Uh, wha...?" I can tell that I have somewhat puzzled you, Fear not, all will be revealed.

I lost my virginity -- the original one -- at age 21. Prior to that I had been almost-sexually active since I was 16 -- and prior to that there had been a lot of snogging but not much else. (This is what happens when you grow up a Yalda Tova Yerushalayim -- and a religious one to boot!)

However, there was always boob-feelage. The girls, in all their incarnations and all their bra types and sizes (I went through a phase of wearing sports bras for years -- not the cool tops I wear now when i'm pyjama-ing it at home, but actual white bras, with little crossed tennis rackets in the middle-y area, instead of the traditional bow -- they were comfortable to the point of being able to sleep in them, but they made me look awful) have always attracted attention, even when they weren't dressed to their best advantage.

But then, that's what boobs do.

I've watched men, with whom I was walking, or drinking coffee, literally do a 180 degree headspin and snap-back at an oversized pair of hooters walking by. It never bothered me, in fact it was something of a relief that for once it wasn't my pair that was magnetizing stares all around. I remember one time laughing hilariously, when it took a while for the men in question to realise that they'd just witnessed a pair of falsies on a very attractive transitional transgender (it may have been a crossdresser, I don't know, but he was gorgeous and had a stunning pair of titties, with a pants-bulge that did everything but complement them).

Thing was, it never did anything for me. Feeling up the girls, I mean. Licking them. Kissing them. Nothing, nada, zip, zilch.

And then one hot and sweaty occasion, someone grasped a nipple between their thumb and forefinger, and squeezed -- and I nearly hit the ceiling with ecstasy. And the rest, as they say, is history.

I guess I owe the Girls a lot. More than just their own blog post. Maybe I should gold-plate them, or make images of them in plaster of paris... what do you think? Suggestions and comments in the comments area, please.

Incidentally, here is the latest shot of Right Tit, taken by the sublimely wonderful Don Gato, my fablious Dom.

For further details, send an email to bdsm.munch@gmail.com.

😄

Goodbye my friend.

It wasn't long, our brief acquaintance, but it was fun.

I liked your approach, the way you looked at things, your take on this or that – the way you analyzed and compared.

I liked the fact that you liked my work, you compared my writing to some of the all-time greats – frankly, had it been on the table as an option, I'd have fucked you for that alone.

It wasn't, of course – you were very careful to state in no uncertain terms how you valued and appreciated my situation. How you had no intention of overstepping any self-drawn or otherwise established boundaries.

Meeting you face to face was an experience worthy of a blog post itself – as I told you, just before we parted company, I believe. You smiled shyly, and told me you'd look forward to it with bated breath.

Is your breath still bated?

Who knows if you'll read this. No one knows where you are, or what's going on with you. Was I lucky to receive the farewell note, or was it the underlying reason for your departure?

I think not. I hope not.

I'll miss you, friend. If any event was ever indicative of the fleeting nothingness that life is as it passes, it was knowing you.

I hope you're well, and happy, and that the disaster that I fear in my neurotically-charged heart, as a result of my active writer's imagination is merely a figment of the latter, and not a reality. Even if that would make the reason for your departure something less comfortable as far as I was conerned.

I can't help who I care for. I'm a good friend, had you stuck around long enough, you'd have found that out for yourself.

I wish you only the best.

With reference to this post, i give you this.



People clearly do these things just to make me smile. Or maybe I'm just too cynical for my own good, and the above is an item usually found on sale in poultry-oriented sex shops?

May the coming year bring us all much kink, sex, perversions of the highest order, restraint (the fun kind), flogging, orgasms and fulfillment -- and most of all fun and laughter. Without the latter two, all the rest palls somewhat, don't you think?

Love and kisses to you all --
Lilly x

Saw this, and thought of you. All of you.

Enjoy, gentle reader:

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All others are mere imitations. It's twue!

I was reminded of this fact when replying to a thread elsewhere on the site, regarding sad songs, or rather, songs we play when we're sad.

I contributed Joe Jackson's "Slow Song", which has put me in the mood for more Joe. Understandably -- as the title of this blog post not-so-gently hints, I'm a bit of a fan. I saw him play live a couple of years ago at Zappa in Tel Aviv, and it was, bar none, one of the best concerts I've ever been to, ever.

And that includes Dire Straits. Ashkara concert, it was.

Here, for your enjoyment, and to wish y'all a happy Wednesday, is some more Joe.

Two clips: "You can't get what you want (till you know what you want)", and "Is She Really Going Out with Him?" which was unbelievable, when played live, btw. *Seriously* amazing.

Enjoy, people!