Sunday, 25 October 2020

A Frightful Time Of The Year

It was just this week that I received a text message asking when I was going to add another post to my Blog, seeing as it was early September the last time I did one.  By curious coincidence, I did plan one this week as I felt a need to update my own thoughts.

But it really doesn't feel like nearly seven weeks ago since I last wrote anything, such is the 'Groundhog Day' effect of the currently societal climate.  The days are pretty much the same, segueing into one another with little perceptible change as we drift through the year like rafted sailors adrift on the ocean seas.

As I look out of the window I can see the leaves on the trees are turning from lush verdant green to bright yellows, glimmering golds, bronzed browns and flamed reds, telling me that, like a bright but brief butterfly, summer has flown and the warm beauty of Autumn has arrived in her stead.  I  love Autumn; the scent of distant bonfires in the air... the chilled misted mornings... the rich velveteen colours so different but just as lovely as the bright explosions of Spring and palette perfection of Summer... the drawing in of the nights,,, the delivery of Mother Nature's bounty in the orchards, pumpkin patches and shimmered fields of gold, ready to be harvested.

John Keats saw similar glories of the season on one country walk in September 1819,composing the beautiful stanzas of 'To Autumn' on his reflections...

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
    Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
    With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
    And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
        To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
    With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
        For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.

Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
    Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
    Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind;
Or on a half-reap'd furrow sound asleep,
    Drows'd with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
        Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers:
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
    Steady thy laden head across a brook;
    Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
        Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
    Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
    And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
    Among the river sallows, borne aloft
        Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
    Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
    The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
        And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

There is a melancholic sadness to the poem, too, as Autumn begins her own 'adieu', and the birds gather for leaving as Winter approaches.  This is the other side to Autumn; a time for reflection, a sometimes sombre silence to remember the year (Rembrance Day could be held in no other season, surely) and be quietly thankful for the gifts we have.  For as Autumn slowly casts off her golden gown and the leaves of her jewelled mantle fall, so it feels like some of our hopes and dreams are also cast to the wind, sometimes to be trodden underfoot... especially this year of all years.  Life is now put on hold, ambitions and dreams laid to one side or laid to waste, and the worries that the Winter will bring hardship and desolation are dimming the soft warm light.

But sometimes that golden carpet of shedded Autumn contains seeds, too, that will wait until the right time to grow, stretch for the open skies and bloom.  From those small Autumnal acorns we may indeed see mightly oaks; but we must be mindful to tend to them closely, such is fragility of hopes and dreams.

I try and stay away from making this blog too political, as a real democracy allows all sorts of differing viewpoints and all can be valid, but on this occasion I will break the rule and state that the government's heavy-handed, misguided and over-reaching reaction is diametrically opposed to old King Canute.  The old story of King Canute trying to command the sea was, in fact, Canute proving to his court that he could not control all things, and somethings have a will and nature of their own.  Our current government seem to think the opposite - despite being unable to control the common cold, influenza and pneumonia, and a myriad of other ailments throughout the ages they appear to think this one can be mollified and contained.  In that plan they are bulldozing a way of life, a society and individual lives to prove it - collateral damage is an acceptable martyr, it seems.  In Wales, as I write, it is no longer lawful to buy baby clothes, books and kitchen utensils, amongst other 'non-essential' things... but you can still buy alcohol (not that I'm a member of the Temperance Society, of course), tobacco and lots of unhealthy food - indeed, a government that decrees that gyms must close whilst fast-food outlets can remain open is proof that politicians of any leaning should have limited powers only, just like those assigned to a petty-minded incompetent middle-manager.  Which is pretty much what they all are.

For myself, it's been an unusually quiet time of the year.  Autumn is usually 'party season', where the fetish and alternative clubs begin gearing up for their finale blast of the year, so there's normally always something to look forward to.  Indeed, plans for some booked Autumn events were scuppered in the early summer for many of these, such is the government policy of the year.  Without being able to travel and visit differnt towns and clubs, I've not really had the opportunity to indulge in some photography.  That meant a little shoot in my 'boudoir' of course as noted in the last post - I hope those who follow my weekly updated photo liked the leather/mask set (I still have a few left over, I think), like this one...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Leather Bitch

With Halloween approaching, however, this weekend I was out and about; seeking some suitably discrete and spooky woods in order to do some zombie/ghost photos.  If you can't have a mess around with costumes and a bit of silly Photoshop, when can you?

My outfit, if you could call it that, consisted of a rather Carry-On style machete and some scanty 'bloodied' table covers as a 'dress'.  Then it was a case of tramping into a bit of woodland - not easy in high heels, although they don't even show in the photos - and posing in the chilly night for some quick photos.  Despite the remote location, it wasn't long before another car parked up and I suddenly had a bit of an audience, as I was still in sight of the car park.

The photoshoot was therefore sadly curtailed, but at least I got a couple of photos - enough for this week and of course Halloween itself.  As Halloween falls on Saturday, I put the first photo up yesterday and the next will also go up a day early - next Saturday.  Here's one from the little collection that hasn't been tampered with, unlike the Picture Of The Week ones where I've decided to have a go at a different effect.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - If You Go Down To The Woods Tonight...

So I'm at least looking forward to Halloween and a night out - even if it's just a local bar with friends.  Am I allowed to drink with friends?  Who knows, and anyway it could all change by next weekend anyway!

I hope you have an enjoyable Halloween - and remember... whatever spooks, ghosts, ghouls, demons and devils venture into our world on All Hallows Eve next weekend as the boundary between the living and the dead merges, one thing we can be sure of: the state of our current world will frighten them all back to the safety of the Hell they came from.

Sunday, 6 September 2020

Strange Fruit

Life is a lottery, or so the saying goes.  It certainly feels a little like a lottery with every choice you make (those that you can in these slightly restricted times, that is).  Go on a well-deserved holiday into mainland Europe and... bingo - your numbers have come in.  Two hours after landing you suddenly find your country of choice is now on the UK government's quarantine blacklist, and you have precisely twelve hours to get back or face quarantine for two weeks on your return, a la Mission Impossible.  In these 'un-normal' times where job security is at risk across nearly all sectors, the chances of having an understanding and flexible employer in such situations is probably rare, so the two-week holiday becomes a four hour break at the airport before flying immediately back.  No wonder people are choosing to have a break in their home country this year... but with the threats of 'local lockdowns' now the new strategy (I'll use that term lightly as 'strategy' implies some kind of plan... and a plan is clearly not what we have) you could still find yourself going somewhere that has seen 'cases' (again, remember when it was about hospital admissions and deaths?) doubling to 35 per 100,000 people (like here in Trafford... yes, that's 35 people out of 100,000 people, so 0.035%) and you could be holidaying in a  lockdown area pretty much overnight.

What to do?

I decided to enjoy another long canal-side walk and go 'brambling' to get away from the worldwide madness.  Even now, in early September, there are plenty of lovely plump little brambles to pluck.  Like other things in life, they've got to be just right. A lovely big one can be a little disappointing in the pleasure it gives once it gets to your lips, whilst smaller ones can have your pleasure-ometer bouncing off the scale.  Also, they need to be a nice firmness.  Too soft, and even the big ones are no good - you don't want them exploding their juice all over your fingers as soon as you touch them.  There were plenty of occasions where I got my hand into a bush to fondle a lovely-looking specimen only to find it spraying my exploring fingers with sticky fluid.  There seems to be a lovely calibration whereby the right size, firmness, plumpness and oral delight merge perfectly to bring pleasure.

I managed to get a decent amount, actually, and finished my walk rewarded with some lovely brambles and some lovely views, too...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - hazy canal, Cheshire.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - rolling Cheshire countryside.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - NOT brambles, but lovely to look at.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - lovely late-summer shapes.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - more summer-haze canals.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - and another hazy, lazy view.

As for the brambles... I forgot to take a photo of the them until a few days later and I'd been enjoying them with my morning breakfast.  This, at least, is what was left by then...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - what was left of my brambles.

I also had another go at getting some photographs outside in a public park - once again thwarted by families and members of the (now) paranoid public, whereby any behavior outside of the norm (like lingering around waiting for a photo opportunity) is met with suspicion, distrust and a watchful eye, so gave up again.  It's one thing being caught by a surprised and suddenly very happy dog walker/stroller 'in flagrante', and quite another to be caught out by the paramilitary public police who now seem to confront unconforming behaviour with hostility or a call to the real paranoid police.

So, it was time for a re-think, and in the end I donned my leather thigh boots and corset, strap-on and hood for some photographs in my little boudoir.

At least I finally got some new photos for my website - I used one last week on the Picture Of The Week section, and there'll be a few more over the coming weeks... a little like this...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - leather lover.

So, if you love a little leather and anonymous lust, keep checking the website.




Sunday, 16 August 2020

A Walk In The Park

'A walk in the park' is one of those expressions we often use to indicate something or a task is easy perhaps to the point of being pleasureable.  My task last weekend, with glorious weather a very nice incentive, was to try and get some new photos.  My 'walk in the park', sadly, didn't quite turn out to be a 'walk in the park'.

I dressed in a lovely vintage-inspired shirt dress, slipped into some sexy crotchless tights and, patent leather high heels, and headed out to a local country park.  Unfortunately, so did the rest of Cheshire it seemed.  The car park didn't look too busy, but once in the country park itself it was like a walkers/runners/cyclists/family rush hour - everywhere you went there was someone either approaching or just passing.  My hopes of getting some saucy and sexy shots of my open dress and slinky tights would have included neon-bright running/cycling lyrca in the background or a full-frontal display to the next family that suddenly appeared in front of me on the small paths around the park.

In some exasperation I made a decision to head into a more underpopulated area of the park - literally 'off the beaten track'.  That didn't turn out too well, either, as stiletto heels and soft ground do not mix, even though some of it was lovely...

...and of course there were some little lovely little things to cheer me on as I stumbled from one dew-drenched mound to another sunken mud-pooled hole...

Finally admitting surrender, I stumbled over towards one of the pathways that meander around the park... only to find my way barred by wire fencing.  I debated about climbing over no matter how unlady-like it would be, but thought that one slip of the taut wire fence would result in my naked pussy being twanged as though by a giant cheese slicer, so back across the damp and uneven parkland it was.

I eventually made it back to concrete and crowds, and had one flash of my tights for the camera before heading back to car - featuring as Picture Of The Week on my website.  Only then did I notice that a drone was flying overhead, perhaps keeping an eye on the park visitors and making sure we all 'behaved'... not from any naughtiness, but more likely (given these behaviour-obsessed times), 'because coronavirus'. 

I returned to Manchester thwarted, but determined to have another go at sexy subversive behaviour again.  So, if you go down to the woods in the next week or so and see a lady behaving rather suspiciously, she may not be selling drugs, passing over official secrets to a foreign power, or - even much worse - meeting someone from outside her government-approved circle of friends... she may just be waiting for an opportunity to get her tits and pussy out.


Sunday, 26 July 2020

Water Wonders

My photo album on my computer is remarkbly small for 2020.  Usually by July I've been to lot of places and had some interesting little adventures.  Not so for 2020 though, of course.  Thanks to this years 'detention period' limbo, I've done bugger all... apart from enjoy the odd local walks around parks, public footpaths (for those outside of the UK these are public rights of way, even across farm and private land) and canal-side walks.

One such walk took me to the Anderton Boat Lift, an ingenious piece of nineteenth-century engineering (1875 to be exact) that could lift barges the 50-foot height difference from the River Weaver to the Trent and Mersey Canal without needing time-consuming canal locks.  As the footpaths around there were properly laid and concreted it meant I could wear some high heels and some very striking skin-tight black leather-look leggings, drawing a few looks from the small number of fellow, but more sensibly dressed, walkers on the towpaths.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

On other walks I've been a little better prepared, as usually canal-side towpaths are uneven and pretty muddy... so the high heels stay home.  One of my favourite walks is from Northwich, on the Trent and Mersey Canal (the one that the Anderton Boat Lift raises the boats to).  In the midst of the covid stress-and-nonsense it became a haven of tranquility and peace, where the craziness of the world could be forgotten for a few hours.  There were always lovely things to catch the eye on the five-hour walk...

...like huge, beautiful and intricate cobwebs on old narrowboats...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

...noisy and very fluffy moorhen chicks...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort
...lovely old narrowboats...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

...noisy and fluffy ducklings (it was clearly Spring)...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

...bright, beautiful wildflowers (no, I have no idea what they were)...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

...some very tight denim shorts...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

,,,patient (but stupid... when you approach they always fly fifty foot down the canal so you catch them up again in a couple of minutes and the cycle is repeated endlessly) herons...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

...lovely bright thistles (which bees adore)...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

...butterflies warming themselves prettily in the hot sun...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

Wait.  Denim shorts?  Where did they come from?  Oh, yes... a little 'selfie' after I'd been walking one day whilst wearing them.  So...

...some very tight, sexy denim shorts with a hint of cameltoe...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

... and speaking of  camelidae (yes, I can use google-stuff!) alpacas (a member of the camel family) and donkeys...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

...some older 'teenage' ducklings - noisy, hungry ("give us yer food or we'll 'ave yer") and delightful (they had all my oats... ducks love oats)...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

...regal swans (but if anyone tells you that the UK doesn't really have any properly dangerous and aggressive animals, they have not met one of these pretentious psychopaths) with a full brood of soon-to-be-psychopaths...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

...and, looking away from the water side, lovely views across Cheshire.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

As I said earlier, I am usually well-prepared for my walks.  Drink (as in water, not alcohol), food (for me and lovely thug-ducks), and assorted suncreams, sticking plasters (just in case) and paper hankies.

The last thing usually comes in handy as, at some point during my five-hour stroll, I need to have a pee, so they are handy little wipes.  On my most recent walk I pretty much got to the end of the walk before realising I needed a pee.  Panties down, leggings down, and an unglamorous squat allowed a lovely stream of piss to water the canal side.  I'd done my best to check for other walkers as usual, but just as I finished and had literally pulled up my panties a group of six walkers strolled into view.  A few seconds earlier and they would have been treated to a full-on piss presentation.  I've used this as the Picture Of The Week on my website (lovely and large), but here's a little taster.  Taster?  Yes, I know some you would love to be under that stream...


Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

Sunday, 12 July 2020

12th July 2020

Recently I headed to one of my local parks for a spot of modelling for some new photos.  Sadly, it didn't work out as well as expected - within a few minutes of arriving there began a steady drizzle that unfortunately put a stop to the proceedings.  My outfit - a short tight leather jacket, high-heeled ankle boots and some gorgeous 100 denier crotchless tights, wasn't really weather-proof.

I did get a few shots, though, and one features as this week's Picture Of The Week.  I thought I'd add another one here, a portrait-style shot, just as a little update.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

Sunday, 5 July 2020

5th July 2020

As I noted yesterday, today is the 100th post and the last of my little 'daily' ones.  One hundred days.  Wow.  It seems like a lifetime ago when I last felt things were 'normal'.  But I've decided, with the kind of firm, decisive stance that the goverment could do with, that something has to change.

So, this week will mark the return to fun for me.  Yes, as of this week I'm properly back in business.  I know things could change again, a lá Leicester, if the government decides that we in the north west are 'misbehaving' and 'not following the rules' and lockdown the whole area again on a whim to 'teach us a lesson', (perhaps coronavirus isn't the only recent thing they've imported from the Chinese - an undemocratic, authoritarian state seems to be the other) but that is out of my hands.  So, the daily posts will finish today, and I intend to try and get out and about at least for some new photos.  In all likelihood the blog will be quiet for a little while as there's still not really a lot going on in the fetish or cultural worlds, but I'll try and do something.  I think we all have to do something to find ourselves again.

I've actually enjoyed the daily posts.  Once or twice I've forgotten to do them (I usually wrote them the night before), so ended up getting out of bed in the middle of the night to write the following day's post... usually half-asleep.  A few working ladies and Dommes I know extolled the 'business plan' of using 'Only Fans' and suchlike for updating photos and, importantly, earning extra cash, but I decided against that, for two reasons.

One... I simply like my blog.  It's mine.  Over the years I've spent probably hundreds of hours writing and editing it... and I'm a bit proud of my little labour of love and lust.  I wanted to keep it alive and thriving, and under the hard days of the early lockdown I knew it would be hard to keep it nourished without a rethink of what I could do with it.

Secondly, without getting too sentimental, I figured there was a chance there would be some people out there that just might be having their own struggles with the sudden descent into the weird dystopian society that the lockdown brought.  If my little posts kept them entertained for only a few minutes each day, it was worth it.  Also, I've been a very lucky lady.  Through my 'vocation' as a sex worker I've met some genuinely lovely gentlemen, who have paid me for my time and delighted me with some fabulous sex as a bonus.  For those lovely chaps, it was a little "thank you - hope to see you soon" payback... well-earned, and well meant.

I hope it's been entertaining - sometimes the posts brought back lost memories, sometimes they were written to vent some frustration at the state of the world, sometimes they helped me relive fabulous moments and reminded me of what is really important.

Today's photo, then, is a little (there is a larger one on my website as the first of my new Picture Of The Week updates) quickie.  The corona-chastity is off, and I'm determined to rediscover and reconnect, high-heeled step-by-step if need be, with the world again.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort

Saturday, 4 July 2020

4th July 2020

Well, here we are.  July 4th.  Pubs (sort of) re-opening, and things (sort of) getting back to 'normal'.  With job losses, both recent and impending, starting to be a concern there is a feeling that things need to change... and soon.  With that in mind, it is probably the time to make my 100th daily post the last.  My intention is to try and get out and about a bit more and hopefully restart my Picture Of The Week theme on my website.

As for stopping... I know I've said it before, but picking a number like 100 to finish on as opposed to, say, 89, feels more complete.  It's an arbitrary number, of course, but we like decimals.  So, for the penultimate daily post, let me pull out something especially explicit. 

Taken just before the lockdown after a rather energetic and very enjoyable fucking session, it may serve as a reminder to those who have missed my company in the recent months.  I bet you can almost smell my perfume, post-fuck sweat and sexy, sated pussy already...

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort