This morning I did my first casting/audition for a movie.
I haven't explained yet that at the end of last year I took my first steps into acting. The possibility came to me by chance and I was so attracted to the idea that I couldn't refuse the invitation to join this independent group which has been in the circuit for more than 50 years.
Particularities of this company:
- it was founded by a group of theatre enthusiasts 56 years ago.
- it developed into the first Independent Theatrical Company in this country.
- it became the longest-lived English-speaking amateur dramatics society in South America.
- the Society has so far publicly presented a total of more than a hundred different plays ranging from Victorian melodrama to slap-stick comedy, thrillers to romantic pieces.
- the group has grown from a small nomadic troupe, rehearsing in members' living-rooms and presenting the productions in contacted theatres; till in 1986 moved into their own venue -an old house converted into a theatre, a workshop and a English Pub (with a barbacue in the garden!).
I made my first contact with them same period C moved to live with us as I considered it a great possibility for him to stay in touch with the English community and to interact with other people in his own language, without the hurdles of trying to communicate in Spanish that he couldn´t speak at all.
All the group was very welcoming, fun people, nice food, good drinks and a warm environment. Not long after we met them, C gave an acoustic concert at the pub and later they didn't find it too hard to convice me to join them for a new production.
My first performance with them was last March with a dramma. Only 3 women on stage and I was one of them. The experience was amazing. The process of preparing the play was hard work but a lot of fun too. However, I was not sure of my feelings about acting until the night of the first performance. Two minutes before entering the stage I was terryfied; the next two minutes on stage I was already enjoying it, the adrenaline running inside my veins, and what was more satisfaying, I could sense that the audience was enjoying it too. I felt that I had it in my hands. It was a great success, and I my thought was "now that I have tried, that I have started, now I won't be able to stop".
And I haven't.
At the moment, we are working on a new production to be presented on the last 3 week-ends of June, with performances Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays.
Last week, when we were rehearsing at the centre we had a meeting with these canadian guys who were looking for new talents (English- speakers actors). They explained to us that the movie is a comedy coproduced by Canada and my country in an attempt to give a new breath to the film industry in this part of the world.
They asked us if we would like to be part of the project and they stayed to see us rehearse. When we finished, they took us pictures and asked for our contact details. A week later, they contacted me to do this casting/audition.
When I arrived, there were many people already awaiting for their turn. I recognised some of them as television actors and a couple of commedians. Some of them were already learning lines, some others were doing vocal excercises. I announced myself with the person in charge and she said to me that they would explain me my role when they call me.
Fantastic: I would have to "improvise" a situation. Something that, for a couple of reasons, I am not good at:
1. I am not a trained actress yet.
2. My experience in acting is very poor!
However, I thought, "I am here already, I will do my best".
15 minutes later they called me to the set. I had to improvise a funny conversation with the main actor. They only gave me two clues: he was a pop star, I was the make up girl, excited by his presence and wanting to gossip all about his life. It was fun to do, the guy was very nice and funny too... but let's face it, I was not prepared for it. I was not confident enough about myself and even when I could hear some laughs from the rest of the crew watching, the situation was not hilarious.
I am content enough that I did it. The experience was a good one, but the opportunity came to me in the wrong moment. Hopefully, there will be other chances in the near future.
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
Friday, April 28, 2006
Stormy relationships
C's sister, M, is not having a good time.
We are very concerned about the rest of C's family. They all live in England and C misses them immensely. Last time we've seen them was last November when they came over for our weeding and now we communicate often but not as much as we would like to.
M lives with her partner for 7 years and her 18 years-old son, who is about to leave home to live with his father in the South for 2 years as he is starting a music course.
M's partner is a succesfull rally racer and together they built, about 6 years ago, their own company that actually is M's responsibility. When they met 7 years ago, he used to be a millonaire, and M chose then to leave a so-so relationship with a very nice guy, to start a new life with a man who offered her heaven on earth and a posh life.
They agreed to have and "open" relationship.
However, during all these years, she found out repeteadly that he cheated on her many times and that he was not very honest with her. Since I know them, their relationship has been varying, from him being an arshole to being an angel and so devoted to her (according to her changing moods).
Recently, she found out more lies from his part and this made her very upset. But above all, most of the money has gone to pay his addiction to cars. So, suddenly, she finds herself in a situation hard to deal with: she has always lived under the "protection" of wealthy men who would give her anything she wants, she doesn't know how to live on her own and take her own responsibilities, she is too "lazy" to think of making such a huge change in her life style and her cards castle is falling down. Her ups and down were common, but lately her periods of depression were becoming too frecuent and she is back into taking antidepressants. Probably, once again, she will decide to swallow her anger together with the pills and continue building up their weak relation.
As anybody could guess, this is a quick brief of a complex situation and my own point of view from the outside of what I consider a very snob lifestyle. Obviously, C is worried about her sister and her near future or the decisions she may or may not take.
Last night we were discussing how to give her some support and comfort, also considering that there's an ocean between us, and the conversation led us to that thorny issue of C's previous relationships.
He explained once more that he himself was stucked in a unsatisfactory relationship because he was not strong enough as to take decisions and also because, although many important aspects of a fulfilment relationship were missing, "it was not that bad after all".
Again I had to hear that "we shared bills, we shared the house..." (isn't it that a commercial contract? I should have said), "and although, there was no intimacy nor sex, we shared some nice moments..." (oh, that was dropping a hint to me! as he knows I am a sex addict!!!)... and he finally added: "and she did not hate me, well, she hate me a little bit, yes.." (too much!!!).
Still is a mistery for me how human beings can bear this kind of relations, live in such state of resignation and condemn themselves to misery.
Some time ago, C read to me A's diary (his previous partner) and what she wrote about him. To assure himself that what he read was not a nightmare but cruel reality, he had taken pictures of the pages of that journal and kept them in his pc. He didn't want to forget what he found out there.
The night he told me about his discoveries, we were a little drunk. However, it is not possible to forget how awful everything he read to me was. Every word, every expression was charged with rudeness, with misery. Every thought was so painful, so inconsiderate, so offensive. Needless to say, it reflected what her feelings towards C were.
I could imagine how much he might have suffered when he made such discovery, and how hard it might have been for him to remain in silence, with all those bitter words beating his mind and his heart all the time.
Only some months later, after that event, he had the strenght to tell her that he had read the diary and that he knew how she felt about him.
But again, I wondered why he made such decision to go on "sharing" life with a person who despised him so much: a woman who used to spurn him all the time.
I was shockingly surprised to hear that he also wants to keep all these pages of her diary.
He said that he doesn't want to forget.
He said that he wants all this shit to accompany him for the rest of his life.
What it is even more irrational to me, is that I, myself have been living under the shadow ot this woman since C has been here. I had to deal again and again with the fact that he was constantly thinking of her, I had to bear the inmense weight in my heart every time he told me he missed her, I had to survive knowing he was saying to her all the time that he still loved her, that he still needed her.
When I asked C about how we were supposed to look forward as a couple when he was still so involved with the woman who was his previous partner, he replied consistently that I should be proud of him because he could still have positive feelings towards his former partner.
However, I can not help remembering his words when we used to chat on line. All his words when he described to me A and the ill relationship they had, are still on my mind. He suffered so much with her. He said to me how much he desired another attitude from her. How lonely he felt! I remember I cried for him.
I think by then, I was already in love with him. He seemed to me so sweet, so fragile.... and so lonely.
Could it possibly be that despite all that misery, he still "misses" her?
We are very concerned about the rest of C's family. They all live in England and C misses them immensely. Last time we've seen them was last November when they came over for our weeding and now we communicate often but not as much as we would like to.
M lives with her partner for 7 years and her 18 years-old son, who is about to leave home to live with his father in the South for 2 years as he is starting a music course.
M's partner is a succesfull rally racer and together they built, about 6 years ago, their own company that actually is M's responsibility. When they met 7 years ago, he used to be a millonaire, and M chose then to leave a so-so relationship with a very nice guy, to start a new life with a man who offered her heaven on earth and a posh life.
They agreed to have and "open" relationship.
However, during all these years, she found out repeteadly that he cheated on her many times and that he was not very honest with her. Since I know them, their relationship has been varying, from him being an arshole to being an angel and so devoted to her (according to her changing moods).
Recently, she found out more lies from his part and this made her very upset. But above all, most of the money has gone to pay his addiction to cars. So, suddenly, she finds herself in a situation hard to deal with: she has always lived under the "protection" of wealthy men who would give her anything she wants, she doesn't know how to live on her own and take her own responsibilities, she is too "lazy" to think of making such a huge change in her life style and her cards castle is falling down. Her ups and down were common, but lately her periods of depression were becoming too frecuent and she is back into taking antidepressants. Probably, once again, she will decide to swallow her anger together with the pills and continue building up their weak relation.
As anybody could guess, this is a quick brief of a complex situation and my own point of view from the outside of what I consider a very snob lifestyle. Obviously, C is worried about her sister and her near future or the decisions she may or may not take.
Last night we were discussing how to give her some support and comfort, also considering that there's an ocean between us, and the conversation led us to that thorny issue of C's previous relationships.
He explained once more that he himself was stucked in a unsatisfactory relationship because he was not strong enough as to take decisions and also because, although many important aspects of a fulfilment relationship were missing, "it was not that bad after all".
Again I had to hear that "we shared bills, we shared the house..." (isn't it that a commercial contract? I should have said), "and although, there was no intimacy nor sex, we shared some nice moments..." (oh, that was dropping a hint to me! as he knows I am a sex addict!!!)... and he finally added: "and she did not hate me, well, she hate me a little bit, yes.." (too much!!!).
Still is a mistery for me how human beings can bear this kind of relations, live in such state of resignation and condemn themselves to misery.
Some time ago, C read to me A's diary (his previous partner) and what she wrote about him. To assure himself that what he read was not a nightmare but cruel reality, he had taken pictures of the pages of that journal and kept them in his pc. He didn't want to forget what he found out there.
The night he told me about his discoveries, we were a little drunk. However, it is not possible to forget how awful everything he read to me was. Every word, every expression was charged with rudeness, with misery. Every thought was so painful, so inconsiderate, so offensive. Needless to say, it reflected what her feelings towards C were.
I could imagine how much he might have suffered when he made such discovery, and how hard it might have been for him to remain in silence, with all those bitter words beating his mind and his heart all the time.
Only some months later, after that event, he had the strenght to tell her that he had read the diary and that he knew how she felt about him.
But again, I wondered why he made such decision to go on "sharing" life with a person who despised him so much: a woman who used to spurn him all the time.
I was shockingly surprised to hear that he also wants to keep all these pages of her diary.
He said that he doesn't want to forget.
He said that he wants all this shit to accompany him for the rest of his life.
What it is even more irrational to me, is that I, myself have been living under the shadow ot this woman since C has been here. I had to deal again and again with the fact that he was constantly thinking of her, I had to bear the inmense weight in my heart every time he told me he missed her, I had to survive knowing he was saying to her all the time that he still loved her, that he still needed her.
When I asked C about how we were supposed to look forward as a couple when he was still so involved with the woman who was his previous partner, he replied consistently that I should be proud of him because he could still have positive feelings towards his former partner.
However, I can not help remembering his words when we used to chat on line. All his words when he described to me A and the ill relationship they had, are still on my mind. He suffered so much with her. He said to me how much he desired another attitude from her. How lonely he felt! I remember I cried for him.
I think by then, I was already in love with him. He seemed to me so sweet, so fragile.... and so lonely.
Could it possibly be that despite all that misery, he still "misses" her?
Friday, April 21, 2006
Dependence
Last night C went out on his own for a formal coctel party at the school where he teaches English Literature.
He got ready while I still was helping my 9 year-old son prepare homeworks for school.
Literally, I almost melted when I finally saw him walking down the stairs. He looked so elegant, so handsome in his dark suit, his beautiful hazel eyes contrasting with the dark grey shirt.
The evening on my own gave me the opportunity to organize some thoughts.
Many times C said to me how dependent he feels on me for practical, daily events.
Such an irony! He can not imagine that I am the one who is so dependent on him.
I depend on his moods, I depend on his kisses, and I depend on every little piece of the love he wills to give me, to survive, to breath.
I am giving all that I am to this man: I am giving myself to the point of feeling empty, dry. I love him so much that it hurts.
I love him as I've never loved before and my worst nightmare of all it is not the fear of loosing him, but the fear of never ever had him.
I do not want a life without C.
I wouldn't be able to survive, to breath, I wouldn't be able simply to BE if C is not with me. Simply because I will have no desire for living.
I am aware that I have to deal with the shadows of the other previous and still present women in his life. This is difficult enough for me and, although I I work hard to overcome my weakness, my jealousy, sometimes I am not very good at it, sometimes doubts consume me. Doubts about what he needs or what he wants from me. And I am so vulnerable.
I do try to improve this part of me, I try hard to be the person he's always dreamt I could be because I would do anything to make him happy. I just need 100% of him with me for succeeding.
He got ready while I still was helping my 9 year-old son prepare homeworks for school.
Literally, I almost melted when I finally saw him walking down the stairs. He looked so elegant, so handsome in his dark suit, his beautiful hazel eyes contrasting with the dark grey shirt.
The evening on my own gave me the opportunity to organize some thoughts.
Many times C said to me how dependent he feels on me for practical, daily events.
Such an irony! He can not imagine that I am the one who is so dependent on him.
I depend on his moods, I depend on his kisses, and I depend on every little piece of the love he wills to give me, to survive, to breath.
I am giving all that I am to this man: I am giving myself to the point of feeling empty, dry. I love him so much that it hurts.
I love him as I've never loved before and my worst nightmare of all it is not the fear of loosing him, but the fear of never ever had him.
I do not want a life without C.
I wouldn't be able to survive, to breath, I wouldn't be able simply to BE if C is not with me. Simply because I will have no desire for living.
I am aware that I have to deal with the shadows of the other previous and still present women in his life. This is difficult enough for me and, although I I work hard to overcome my weakness, my jealousy, sometimes I am not very good at it, sometimes doubts consume me. Doubts about what he needs or what he wants from me. And I am so vulnerable.
I do try to improve this part of me, I try hard to be the person he's always dreamt I could be because I would do anything to make him happy. I just need 100% of him with me for succeeding.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Justification
Last night C and I had a conversation about the purpose of blogging.
He is starting a blog himself with the idea of commenting and sharing with other people his progresses and techniques referring his guitar playing (at least this would be his main interest, although I guess not the only one).
I teased him: "oh, then, would it be a serious journal instead of a 'dirty' one like mine?".
He questioned me why I would like to write a 'dirty' journal when there are so many people around talking about sex already, meaning 'sex is over rated'...
I explained to C that this journal is not about sex itself but about my life experiences, my thoughts, my beliefs, my concerns, my ramblings and maybe sometime, my imagination. It's only that as sex happens to be quite an important part of my life, it would also deserve some consideration in this blog.
However and above all, writing has in me a liberating effect.
I've been writing on and off, since about 16, at different stages in my life. Little pieces of words here and there that were coincident with meaningful periods of changes or crisis. I found out that writing was (and obviously, still is) like a therapy: I need to do it, it makes me feel good, it calms me down, I learn more about myself, it helps me overcome my miseries, and I am happy when I reread my joyful moments.... and all this, a lot cheaper. So basically, you can say I write for myself. The fact that I am writing in English, which is not my first language, only adds a challange to the already rich experience.
C reminded me that an online journal also means joining a community.
True.
Hence you are bound to have an audience.
Also correct.
I still can share my life with other people but remain anonymous. And who knows, maybe get some interesting feedback from the 'rest of the world' as well.
All of you are welcome.
x
He is starting a blog himself with the idea of commenting and sharing with other people his progresses and techniques referring his guitar playing (at least this would be his main interest, although I guess not the only one).
I teased him: "oh, then, would it be a serious journal instead of a 'dirty' one like mine?".
He questioned me why I would like to write a 'dirty' journal when there are so many people around talking about sex already, meaning 'sex is over rated'...
I explained to C that this journal is not about sex itself but about my life experiences, my thoughts, my beliefs, my concerns, my ramblings and maybe sometime, my imagination. It's only that as sex happens to be quite an important part of my life, it would also deserve some consideration in this blog.
However and above all, writing has in me a liberating effect.
I've been writing on and off, since about 16, at different stages in my life. Little pieces of words here and there that were coincident with meaningful periods of changes or crisis. I found out that writing was (and obviously, still is) like a therapy: I need to do it, it makes me feel good, it calms me down, I learn more about myself, it helps me overcome my miseries, and I am happy when I reread my joyful moments.... and all this, a lot cheaper. So basically, you can say I write for myself. The fact that I am writing in English, which is not my first language, only adds a challange to the already rich experience.
C reminded me that an online journal also means joining a community.
True.
Hence you are bound to have an audience.
Also correct.
I still can share my life with other people but remain anonymous. And who knows, maybe get some interesting feedback from the 'rest of the world' as well.
All of you are welcome.
x
Friday, March 31, 2006
"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
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
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
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
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
Friday, March 24, 2006
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
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.
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.
Thursday, March 23, 2006
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...
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...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
