Tag Archives: confidence
Guest blog: Camming with him makes me feel seen
Regular readers will know how much I enjoy stories of first times: there is so much in life to discover, and even if I’m not able (or inclined) to discover a particular kink for myself, there’s a huge amount of vicarious joy to experience in hearing about someone else’s first time ‘thing.’ This week, I’m welcoming back Emilia Romero, whose words have already shattered my heart then knit it back together again in this beautiful piece about finding BDSM, as well as delivering exuberant joy in this post about discovering Doxy. Today she’s back to talk about a new adventure with her friend N, and how camming with him helped her feel seen…
This is not why we broke up
It wasn’t that my body was wrong, for a start. Over the course of our relationship I changed a lot – sometimes I looked fucking spectacular and other times I looked crap. Same with him. I fancied the fuck out of him, always, regardless of what shape or size his body was or how he’d chosen to dress it today. We lived, we grew, we changed: our bodies could never have been the reason why we broke up.
Slutty outfit or posh frock: who the fuck am I?
It’s a special occasion, so I dress up fancy. I toy with the idea of wearing my standard ‘slut’ outfit (thigh-high socks, tight black top, Doxy butt plug) but ultimately chicken out. What if he wants to chill out when he arrives before we get down to the fucking? Maybe he’ll be overwhelmed by an immediate and clear demand that he get it in me right now please please get it in me? What if the special occasion dictates that we should spend some time on wine and chatting first? So I, a wuss, eschew the slutty outfit in favour of a lovely posh dress – one I wore to a good friend’s wedding before Covid, which I hope to wear to dance at other people’s weddings when the After Times arrive.
Body confidence: I think I (fleetingly) found it
We’re fucking in front of a mirror, with his hands on my hips and me face-on, tits jiggling and arms reaching behind me so I can hold the back of his head and neck and grip him tightly while he pounds it in. We both look really fucking good and for some reason I don’t feel the awkward-shameful nervousness I would usually feel to see my naked body this close. This jiggly. This… exposed. I think what I have today might be body confidence.
In which a strong, independent woman meets a spider
I am single now, so I’m doing everything on my own. I fucking love it. There’s an immense and roaring joy that comes with the power of being alone. The power to do or not do something based purely on whether the fuck I want to. Singing loudly in the kitchen. Dancing… well… everywhere. Learning new things and remembering old things and saying ‘yes’ when someone asks me for Skype drinks. I’m a strong, independent woman. In every single area except one.