Sunday, 2 February 2020

Sex On Fire

Like many professionals in different spheres and careers, I'm proud of what I do and believe my work brings something positive to a sometimes sad world.  I know there are many that would see that viewpoint of 'sex work' as wrong and that my chosen choice of career immoral, but I'm happy to take the pass less trodden and enjoy my career, aiming to be as good as a I can be at it - like a professional.  But, like most professionals, stuff still goes wrong and that aim of providing an erotic, sensual and seamless interlude in the day of a visiting gentleman stands endlessly on a cliff edge - sex, at the best of times, can be a etiquette mindfield to give a De Bretts author nightmares.

I've had some instances in the past that rear their head in my memory.  In that long hot summer of 2018 I spent, to be honest, a fair bit of time sat outside my local cocktail bar enjoying the blazing sun.  One weekend, there was probably a little too many cocktails and a little too much sun, ending up with me suffering a rather sunburned scalp. It wasn't a problem until the Monday, and a visiting gentleman and I got down to the business of some thoroughly enjoyable sucking and fucking.

However, once the energetic fucking began I found myself being literally fucked up the bed and against the headboard.  As my sore scalp began to rub on the coarse headboard  I experienced a new burning sensation that sent bolts of pain on the short journey from sunburned scalp to brain.  Without my lover noticing I tried to ease back down the bed, pushing down against his thrusting hips to try and move our entwined bodies away from the headboard.

Lover took this as a sign to fuck me even harder, and it soon felt like someone was holding a blowtorch against my head as headboard and scalp regained contact.  I began panting, then moaning with each thrust of lover's cock, which he took for as pleasure, and spurred him on to even more energetic thrusting.  My cries with each deep thrust of his hard cock, looking back, were easily misunderstood... oh, oh, oh, oh, Ohh, Ohhhh, OHHHH, OHHHHH, OOOOHHHHHH...

At least the session ended well - I persuaded my chap to change position, and we both ended up coming with me riding him cowgirl style.  I was a bit more cautious for the rest of the week, though!

I've been fucked off the bed a few times, too, ending up in an inglorious heap on the floor when my gent and I have lost ourselves in the moment - professional... maybe not, but funny, yes.  The less said about fanny farts the better, of course... some sexual positions at the wrong time can just push air where it's really not wanted.  I know some guys like that kind of thing, but when it's not intentional they can be a bit... er, unsexy.

Other factors can come into play, too.  Window cleaners arriving at the sex boudoir window, delivery drivers arriving at the door.. and some interruptions are entirely self-inflicted.

Like this week.  With my gentleman visitor on his way, I lit some nice aromatherapy candles to help with the mood.  My man arrived, and we headed to the bedroom.  After a very lovely session of intimate 1-2-1 fun we were laid on the bed afterwards and, somewhere distant it seemed, an alarm began to go off.  "Is that a fire alarm?" asked my lover.  "No, it's just the check that the management company do," I replied, seeing no panic required.  The shrilling noise continued.  "That really does sound like a fire alarm," he said again.  "No, it's fine," I reassured him,

About a minute later, and with my partner still insisting there was something wrong, I got up and walked into a smoke filled hallway, and the fire alarm was screeching away in full panic mode.  After a second or two of shock  - I found the cause of the smoke.  The match that I'd used to light the candles with had broken off and my aromatherapy oil burner had caught fire, which in turn burnt the wooden chest that it was sat on.  It was a rather undignified end to a very nice session, and certainly not the professional, calm, sensual experience I was hoping to achieve.

So, things go wrong, but I'll continue to be the best I can - which is providing hot stuff in the bedroom, not the hallway.

It's also time for a website update - once again my favourite photos from the last six months have been updated on my Gallery Page -  I hope you like them as much as I do.

Sunday, 5 January 2020

2020 Vision And The Wrong Prick

Happy New Year to my readers.

Firstly, I'm aware that it's been a while since I posted - November was the last one, actually.  It summed up 2019 for me - started with much hope and, well... fizzled out in a dismal greyness.

I was, in truth, glad to see the back of 2019.  The year had seen the passing of a few of of my friends, the most recent in the build-up to Christmas itself, so the holiday season mood was a bit overcast.

On a better note, New Year's Eve turned out to be a twelve hour blast - drinks (a few mocktails in there, to spread out the alcohol intake!) with friends was a sure-fire way to swill away the bitter end to the year, and I finally arrived home at 6.00am, sparkly dress (and, for once, panties) intact and silver high heeled sandals still on my feet.

So, ready and waiting for 2020... which actually started with a prick.  A big hard one.  A prick that probed my inner working like no other, reached areas that no other had and made me almost pass out after 15 minutes of impalement by a charming and swarthy gentleman medic.  No, not part of a plot for a hammy sexploit wherein the heroine gets some 'special treatment' at the hands of a well-hung white-coated doctor on the creaking metal bed in an examination room - something far less sexy in reality.

Let me go back to Dec 2017.  Now, I'm not sure if it was being fucked doggy-style endlessly, the wanking of many cocks or just frigging myself off at random times, but I managed to get tennis elbow.  For those not in the know, it is an incredibly painful heat down the forearm, making any movement involving putting a strain on the joint and muscles unbearable.  It slightly hindered my fun/work, as the aforementioned wanking and doggy-style fucking became difficult, but somehow I got by.

However, the tennis elbow, despite following physiotherapy advice, hung around like Tony Blair at a Labour party conference - unwanted, unloved and very bloody annoying.  I couldn't shift it.  Finally, in late 2019, after two years of suffering, an appointment with a consultant for a possible remedy was finally forth coming.  So, just a few days ago, I hauled myself out of bed and made it to the required hospital ward for 7.15am. 

Two hours later, I had blood taken, the plasma and platelets separated, and re-injected into the joint of my left elbow via a long, thick steel needle.  Painful?  Hmm... yes.  Fuck yes.  Any deviant thoughts that 'may' have been scurrying along the dark sides of my imagination were well and truly blown away once that white-hot pain seared into my brain.

The pain is slowly subsiding - I can only hope that it does the job.  There are other pricks that I'm looking forward to seeing being impaled on in my full-length bedroom mirror, and no doubt a fair few steel-hard shafts that I'll be relieving of their load this year.

Aims for this year - I've already got a few things booked... some fetish, some retro/vintage, and hopefully some fell-walking - it's been too long since I've hit the hillsides, and I miss the delights of our lovely countryside.

I hope you have all have a glorious 2020.

Dexi Delite Altrincham Escort - Happy New Year.