I wrote a blog post a long time ago about how it might be to be in a relationship where kinks were acknowledged and shared. If I remember correctly, one of the possible scenes I imagined had one partner, feeling in the right mood, pushing the other over the kitchen worktop for a spanking.
I’ve spent time on my own before, but not like this, not week after week of it, not forced by external circumstances rather than by choice. Much of the time I’m doing fine, but occasionally the pandemic seems like a tidal wave, and the loneliness locks me to the ground so I can only wait… Read More »
I wouldn’t say I had yet fully made the conversion to happy gardener; my work tends to come in sporadic, short bursts, but I certainly tackle it more willingly than I used to. It provides a healthy and potentially productive way to fill the long, empty gaps that Covid-bloody-19 has forced into my life.
Blop the goldfish looked longingly at his darling Blip, as she swam round in her bowl, tidying scraps and cleaning the inside of the glass. Somehow, being able to see her and wave a fin at her from time to time made it worse.
A plus of solo lockdown is the time and inclination to return to baking. It seems half the country wants to make bread now and my Twitter TImeline and DMs are suddenly full of rising times and sourdough starters and I’m fine with all of it.
Last week, found me pulling things out of my, currently unused, BDSM toy bag to create a somewhat submissive shot. This week, I’ve been in the bag again, but have gone for somethign more dominant.
How are you doing? Do you still have a job? How are you coping with isolation? Have you had it? How about your elderly relatives? How awful, that in 2020, these are the questions with which we start a conversation.
Like many folk all over the country, all over the world, I am having having to get used to my own company. Sometimes, I can be relaxed about this; at others, I’m climbing the walls.
Why do all my selfies have to be “big man doing the chores”? After all that baking, grass cutting and ironing, a guy deserves a break, right?
I’d seen the harness on a previous visit to the central london rental dungeon and wondered if it was expandable enough to fit me. I have a thing for tight leather bondage harnesses and have bought a few over the years.
“You want a hand?”I said, hearing that painting was going to be happening while I was her side of London. “Sure” she said, “we could do a Sinful Sunday!” Cue major eye roll from me.
I fancied a slight change of direction for my occasional series of black and white “ big man does the chores” images. I mean “all work and no play etc etc”