"Picture" my Friday

C went to a farewell party with some work mates leaving me having pizza and icecream with the kids.
Nobody is around now, except the cats which won't stop chasing each other, playing in their frenetic and energetic mood.
I closed the door of the studio to have some peace and quiet to share the rest of my Friday with my blog.
The day started as a any other typical Friday: everybody at the office with that worn out look after having crawled the whole week to rehearse a reborn for the weekend.
The morning was hectic, loads of work and I, as usual, daydreaming. My mind miles away from that desk, and again and again, struggling not to think about the incoming wetness between my legs.
It was then when I found it.
I was lazyly organizing my archives when I rediscovered the audio file enclosed to THAT email.
It was a hot piece of audio that C had produced for me after a mad night. I couldn't (and I didn't want to either) avoid listening to it again... and all what happend that night came back to me...

------

The events of the past months had marked a decisive crisis in my life.
Crisis considered as a change, as a personal growing, as the beginning of a new stage in my existence.
A couple of emails that I had exchanged with C unchained some of the fears and questions I had referring our sexuality.
I still have many doubts and questions.
Probably too many.
However, I had the courage to write down some of my mixed emotions and send them to him, with the hope that C would understand a little bit what was going through my mind.
As a consequence, and thanks that C wanted to be very open to me, we've been discussing a lot how we feel about certain things.
We found out that, in a way, we are similar, and talking honestly about difficult subjects was a huge relief for me.
I think we were both looking forward to discussing our sexual life but couldn't find the way to provoke the conversation. Again, it was me who did the initial attempt, and suprisingly, C admitted that he was waiting for me to start a conversation, as he was expecting a confrontation.
All that time he was arming his defence of his addiction to porn as he suspected I would be angry or furious due to his behaviour.
On the other hand, my reaction to this matter was and still is, a completely different one.
Despite my many doubts and fears (and my "ignorance") I do feel I want to be a companion to C in every aspect of his life. And porn it is an important issue to be considered.
Hence, I prefer to be by his side in this too, instead of "against" him.
This is the main reason, but not the only one.
I am also aware that I do like porn, and that I don't want to hide this from C: both him and me, we deserve to be honest and open with each other. We are adults, we should know how to deal with this in an adult fashion.
I was convinced that the fact that we both enjoy similar activities would add a lot more to our sexual life.
Hopefully, experiencing new things together would enhance our intimacy and we would grow together as a couple. In this sexual aspect of our relationship.


---

Back to our mad night.
Wine usually makes me feel so relaxed, it gives to my body that warm sensation, relieving it of the mundane activities of the day.
We started to watch some naughty movies. I am always amazed at what I see on the screen, it turns me on a lot to watch them with C and to think that he is aroused too.
I was already anticipating naughty games.
I love to play intensely, it is wonderful to get very dirty and push eachother to the extremes.
And then, C said I was his slave, he said I was his toy when he wants me to be. He said he was going to take me and abuse me and force me to do the things that brings him pleasure.
He left me standing there and begun to prepare me: my lesson was about to start.
He bounded me with a tie and blinfolded me and then he prepared himself to look at erotic images and sex videos on the screen. My clothes were removed one by one very slowly until I was completely exposed, vulnerable in my nakedness.
At that point he was naked too.
I knew he was pleasuring himself, stroking his cock, playing with himself, breathing close to me, his breathing becoming faster and faster and I... I started to ache for him. I desired so much his lips on my skin, his hands exploring my body.
But I realized how much he was enjoying dominating me, how much he wanted to control me, how much he wanted me to be his plaything, his slave, and I couldn't help being scared about myself and how I was feeling. Scared of how much I was enjoying being submisseve and also scared as I could not anticipate what was going to happen next. I was in his hands.
I desired so much to fulfill his expectations!
I promised to be a good student, to try hard to learn.
I felt he was hunting me, and I was aching for him. I wanted so much to be the one he desires to cover with savage kisses.
I needed him to say that he wanted me, that he was hungry for me.
I felt an ocean in between my legs.
He was telling me how excited he was, playing slowly with his hard cock, while he was enjoying his porn and watching me there, waiting on his own pleasure.
I knew his thick cock was delicious, I could imagine his balls becoming tight and swollen and I was already moaning, begging for a little bit of it.
He started to finger me, his fingers swimming in my ocean, it was so beautiful. I wanted him to fuck me with his fingers. I love his sexy big hands on my body, his long fingers exploring my pussy.
I was breathing heavily... I was struggling not to beg, his proximity making me shake with anticipation.
With frustration every time he moved away.
His opened mouth reached mine. I eagerly savoured his tongue and then he moved away. He licked and bited my erected nipples.
I desperately wanted to touch my pussy, to feel its wetness, pretending it was him doing so. I wanted him to lick my juices from my fingers.
It felt so good to be his slave, his slut and I wanted him so badly to fuck me.
Instead of that, he decided that I have a nice bottom and that it deserved a good spanking.
The belt would make it.
And there I was, asking for more oh such a pleasurable punishment....
My red and hot bottom was the sign he needed to decide I deserved a better treatment.
And he let me watch what he was going to do next.
He lied on the sofa, his beautiful body exposed to me, his long legs spread, his thick silky cock hard and looking so exciting. I could only think of having this precious dick in my mouth, licking it, sucking it, tasting it and enjoying it so much. However, all those pleasures were not allowed to me yet. His cock was his own gorgeous toy. It was so wonderful to watch him playing with himself, squeezing and strocking his manhood.
And then, suddenly, he creamed his ass and he fucked it with a bottle while my glaring eyes were watching in amazement.
He said that he wanted me to remember that night very well, as there were lots of things we were going to do.
After saying this, he untied me, he grabbed my hair and he pushed me on my knees in front of him.
He let me taste him, I was hungry for his cock.
I savoured both the feeling of his hardness in my mouth and his sweet taste as if it was an erotic mist. My lips caressing every inch of his cock, my tongue tasting as much as I could reach.
With one hand I fondled his balls while the other stroked the root of his cock.
I pulled and sucked on his cock with greed.
I loved to watch him watching me as I moved from the balls all the way up his shaft to the head. I could have spent hours there. However, I stopped just before the point of no return and begged "fuck me"... I wanted to feel him filling me up.
He did it.
He fucked me, hard and fast, sweat pouring from our bodies, our juices passing from one body to the other.
The violence of the fuck was almost animal, but we were both enjoying and I almost shouted out in passion.
The speed became intense and after a while I shouted out in ecstasy when I felt his cum deep inside me and my cum all over his cock.
Beautiful.

---------------

The morning after, I was at the office trying to convince myself that the previous night was for real, when I received a couple of emails from C.
One with the audio he produced for me, inspired in the previous night.
The other one saying that after such a night he was still very horny and playing with himself again. With that email he enclosed lots of pictures of his precious hardened cock.

I desesperately looked for the photos... by the time I finally found them, the wetness in between my legs due to relieving our games was deliciously unbearable.
I have to run to the toilette and... well, that's another story...
x

Me

I live in a small seaside resort, about four blocks from the beach.
It is not exactly an oceanic beach and it is not the place that we choose for holidays, but still is a nice environment, away from the fumes and the polluted air of the city, and we can enjoy huge extensions of sand along the coast for walking and doing excercise.
I am married with an English musician who decided to leave everything behind and move to the unknown just to be with me and start a new life (I should write the story, indeed).
I have a boy aged 9 and a girl aged 6 from a previous relationship.
We also have 4 cats in the house, and two others that come and go, but that appreciate good enough our treatment as to be always on time for lunch and dinner time.
I work as a full time bilingual secretary in a renowned firm specialized in the promotion and development of real estate projects and consultation services for corporations and holdings. This year will be my 12th year with the company and, at the moment, I am considering changing my job. Mainly because I would like to work less hours (I start at 9 in the morning and finish -if lucky- at 6 in the afternoon) and improve my salary... everybody's dream, I guess, work less, earn more... I am part of a team of 25.

Here is a list of some of the things that I do like:

- sex
- reading as much as possible (both Spanish and English)
- movies as much as I can cope
- music: all sorts, from classical to folk, from jazz to pop
- chocolate: in any form, any colour
- I became addicted to mushrooms
- C's food: anything... he is the best cook ever. Perfect and improving...
- sex again. It is never too late, too early, too hot, too cold, I am always up for a fuck (I don't suffer from headaches and... no, I am not too tired either)
- yes, I do like porn. Yes, it does turn me on
- the perfume of jazmines
- C's smell
- my kid's drawings
- acting: working on it
- gosh... I am thinking of sex again
- singing: maybe one day. C says that if I want to do it, I have to train. So at the moment, I am only singing in the shower, and this, if I am not inmerse in other more pleasurable issues...
- red wine and Baileys

I don't bear:

- human mediocrity
- burocracy
- I struggle working so many hours a day in an office, I am a hard worker thou
- I do not believe in politicians
- I am not happy with condoms
- I hate plastic toys for kids




Summertime

Why I am starting this blog

and why it is in English.

I was born in the 60's although I was reborn as a new human being a couple of years ago.
First of all I need to say that English is not my mother tongue and that my first language is Spanish (so, please, be nice!).
I've always felt the necessity to write. It helps me clarify my thoughts, organize my ideas. It is a fantastic tool when I have to deal with problems and also I discover, again and again, that this activity calms me down when I am in the eye of an emotional crisis.
I can cry my tears in "ink" in the form of words. I can draw my miseries and joys in dancing letters on a screen.
Since English is not my first language, I asked myself why I do not want to write in Spanish right now and I found out some important (to me) reasons:

1. Daily life.

My husband (C) is British.
I speak English with my husband, Spanish with the kids, a mixture of both with the cats (4... yes, 4 cats), fortunately we have no dogs, and I do not chat with the ants (yet).

2. Cultural issue.

At the moment, I feel closer to an European (British) culture than the American one (which sometimes could be quite problematic).

3. Emotional charge.

I felt that this "cleaning" activity of myself that I experiment when writing has not the same effect on me when the vehicle is the Spanish language. I sensed that words lack of emotional charge and they don't express efficiently enough my inner thoughts nor my emotions.
Certainly, my feelings, my emotions and the important changes in my life, are "lived" in another language which happens to be not my mother tongue. Of course, this is my personal feeling, I've always thought that the Spanish language is one of the richiest languages. However, I have the impression that words are "weak", they have not enough "texture" and I feel uncomfortable when writing about myself in Spanish. This may sound weird, as I've always been happy with writing, but at the moment, I am in a situation where I wonder which one is my "first" languague anyway.

4. Who may read this blog?

Well, anyone who could read in English.
C's first language is English and he does not speak Spanish, his understanding is improving every day though (thank you kids!).
There will be many things here that will be hard to say, or even difficult to express. And I am also aware that C wouldn't be very happy with some of my thoughts about certain issues I could write here and, no doubt, he will have a different aproach to my concerns, my doubts, my fears, my ideas.
However, this is me, I do have a "dark side", that one you don't want anybody to know about it. I know plain talking makes you vulnerable. It is risky, it is dangerous, but it would be me, facing the world.

Wish me luck
x

November in my life

Last November I married the man I love.
The one who gives me his music every day.
The one who thanks my hands on his body.
The one who makes me cry.
The one who makes me smile with tenderness.
The one I have the necessity to protect.
The one with whom I laugh.
The one who covers my body with kisses.
The one I spy when he sleeps.
The one with beautiful eyes.
The one I want to fuck with.
The one I want to fuck.
The one I long to make love with.
The one I admire.
The one I trust.
The one who is passionate and naïve.
The one who arouses me.
The one with lovely feet and big hands.
The angel face.
The devil.
My friend.
My accomplice.
My lover.
My love.

Chilhood

They are everywhere.
However, we don't see them anymore. They are part of the city landscape.
We've already got use to them.
They are the kids who stand up everyday at the corners of the streets. The ones who don't go to school. The ones who eat from time to time, and do not wear shoes.
The ones who steal, beg and cry.
People feel pity and are afraid of these kids.
Those are generations already marked, and they will grow marked too.
Those children, probably won't have many options of a future. Those generations have been the subject of many discussions in the Parliament, although not a single practical procedure, no matter the Government in turn.
Those children grow too fast.
Suddenly, they turn into 5, 6 or 12 year-old-adults.
Those kids do not celebrate Children' Day and they do not have Winter Holidays nor Christmas.
Those are children with "stories".

-----------------

S is 10 years old.
No... correction: he believes he is 10 years old.
In fact, this is what he says when someone ask his age. Because S has no identity card. For him, it is better like that. It is better not to exist. It is better to be registered nowhere.
He only knows that he was born at the Pereira Rossell Hospital.
Last time he saw his mother was two years ago, when, as every other day, she left him begging at a corner of a street and she never came back.
He doesn't want to remember the night that followed that day: it was the coldest night he has ever experienced in his whole 10 years of life, or... in the 10 years he believes he is.
Icy, despite of being a September night, it was icy.
The feeling of loneliness and abandomment had reached his bones.
He knows that he fall asleep somewhere. He does not remember it, or he does not want to remind it. Since then, he lives in the streets. There was when he understood that he was alone, completely on his own.
He suspects he has siblings somewhere. He fantasies that sometime, his mother will come back to collect him. He almost believes that this may happen. Almost. He has lost his hopes and expectations a long time ago and, also a long time ago, he stopped thinking of her.
"I've almost forgot her face", he muttered.
As for his father... well... better not to talk about him.
Every day, S is at the same corner in that posh neighbourhood.
He only changes the place ("his stop") depending on the seasons. There are corners more suitable for summer times while others pay much better in winter.
This is what you learn in the streets. He knows that very well. He has already been in the streets for 10 years. Or maybe a little more. Who knows?
What is certain is that NOW he owns an old bag with the "Power Rangers" on it, that he found out somewhere. He also carries a rolled mattress and a big piece of plastic in case it rains.
Full of expectations, he told me that a woman who gives him something to eat from time to time, promised him a pillow.
Full of expectations, he also said that he heard a vague romour about an Emergency Plan that "gives you money for being poor".
However, S does not like charity.
He has no idea what he will be when he becomes an adult.
He wants to learn a trade. He doesn't even think about attending school though: "that is a waste of time", assures me with no trace of doubt at all. With all the confidence of a 10ish-year-old-kid who lives since two years ago, on his own, in the streets.
He also assures me that he hasn't fall that low (yet). He had plenty of offers though.
Some time, not long ago, he tried some drugs. It was not "pasta base": "That one eats you in no time. I've already seen it in many others before".
During the day, he begs for coins. He cleans windscreens, he juggles with two balls or simply, he takes his "shoes" off and he performes what he, himself, describes as a "sad face". This strategy is wonderful for winter time. However, he knows very well that he can go down with an illness, and this is not allowed.
Despite of being a kid -I mean, despite of being a 10 years-old-adult-, he has his own rules. The main rule the streets taught him is the importance of eating something, at least once a day. Something "big", "heavy". If he manages to find this, the day is already paid.
He, himself, says that he has some fairy godmothers he visits from time to time: when things get hard; when nobody opens a window to give him a coin. Then, his fairy godmothers are in charge of giving him something to eat and if it happens to be his lucky day, they would give him old clothes.
Last winter was a tough winter for S. He knows for sure that the more he grows, the less coins he will get. Because nobody will believe his "sad face".
He himself, explained this to me: "people pitied more smaller, younger kids". The streets also taught him that.
He knows that he has to start to think in his future. He doesn't want to steal like others do.
However, nights in the streets are very long.
And extremely cold.
Lonely nights.
No matter the season...