Category Archives: #WickedWednesday

WickedWednesday: Necessary

It’s been a while since I participated in Wicked Wednesday. I wonder if Marie will be surprised? It is her prompt ‘Necessary’ that err, prompted me to come back.

It has become necessary, for my own peace of mind and sense of honesty, for me to be 100% open about the part of my body that I don’t like. No, not my cock (which Silverdrop insisted I leave in the shot)!

My belly. Back in the Air Force and before, I was something of an athlete – badminton, running, sailing etc. – and had the body that went with it. In 1999 I almost died from a previously undetected abdominal condition. The resultant surgery saved my life. Post-op infection destroyed a lot of my abdominal muscles – the six pack. Then osteoarthritis kicked in and made me less and less mobile.

This is what I am left with. It is also one of the reasons why Silverdrop and I are so body-positive.  I hope this might encourage others with body image issues to post.

It ain’t pretty, but it’s all mine.

I have sometimes posed/cropped/edited this part of me out of images. Or a pic of me on my back, which minimises things.That stops. Now.

And I mean it this time.

Hopefully.

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Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

WickedWednesday: Life Signs

signs

 

Hmm, WickedWednesday again. Interesting prompt.

I shall talk to myself.

STOP: “Stop worrying about what the next bad piece of medical news for either of you might be and get on with living.”

YIELD: “Do not yield to the little voice that sometimes tells you it’s just too much effort and you should give up.”

GIVE WAY: “Do give way to the urge to let go of the things you absolutely cannot change. This will give you more energy for the things you can.”

70 (mph – motorway speed limit in UK): “You want to live well past three score years and ten, don’t you? So focus. Don’t let the bastards grind you down.”

30 (mph – usual in-town speed limit in UK): “I know you were fit and healthy at 30, but that ain’t coming back. Accept it, dude.”

Danger, men at work: “Your whole life, including Silverdrop’s, is a work in progress. One day at a time.”

I think that gives a general flavour of where I’m at. How are you guys all doing?

 

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Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

WickedWednesday: Past, Present, Future – in Red

In my immediate past, Silverdrop left the bedroom fully dressed.

At present, she just came naked into the bedroom and showed me her hand.

In the immediate future there is going too be some hot sex.

 

Clickety-click for larger version.

Subtle. eh?

Subtle. eh?

 

 

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Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

SilverHubby shown at the waist, clothed, his hands holding a collar.

WickedWednesday: Masturbation Fodder

Hmm… our first WickedWednesday for a couple of weeks. Sorry Rebel.  🙂

You take a pic. You angle it for your best assets to show. You write a short piece. It’s hot sweaty sticky and delicious. You make these public, you share. Do you care what the viewer or reader does with them?

Nope, don’t really care or mind. Posting an erotic photo means you have no real control over what the viewer does with it. Something that not everybody thinks about before they post, methinks.

Does it turn you on to know that you stimulate?

Not really, no, it’s to anonymous. OTOH, if a reader posts a comment, tweets, e-mails etc. that they found something particularly hot, that can be a turn on and is invited.  🙂

Do they ask you for permission bringing you into their pleasure? Does it humiliate you to be reduced to their masturbation fodder, you a merely specimen of the species?

No, I don’t do humiliation. Hmm, not actually true – we do a lot of humiliation play.

Conversely, that picture, the light, the angles, something’s clicks. The words, the ideas, the movement of the story. Your body reacts. You save it for later. … Do you value it less for it’s immediate function? Is it art or literature when you masturbate over it? Are they human or porn in that moment of pleasure? Do you read the words or stare intently at the picture, or use it just to get you going? Do you return to favourite pieces?

I do not recall ever masturbating over pictures or erotic directly. Well, as a teenage, but that’s different. When I masturbate, the images are all generated in my head. They are almost without exception snapshots of past sexual encounters, spread over my whole sexually active life. They are rarely about people I have never met.

Am I weird?

Oh, we both masturbate – a lot. Usually together, sometime solo.

What? You want a pic? How about this blurred action shot of me about to come over Silverdrop’s belly while she had a vibe against her clit? Feel free to have a wank because of these – we don’t mind.  🙂

About to explode over Silverdrop's lovely belly.

About to explode over Silverdrop’s belly.

 

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Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

SilverHubby shown at the waist, clothed, his hands holding a collar.

WickedWednesday: Nothing to see here. Move along now.

Ah shame, I know knew your name, old friend enemy.

I grew up in a house where everything not ‘normal’ was expected to be hidden. What do I mean by that? Things that were expected to be hidden from the all-seeing “they” were strong emotions at both ends of the scale i.e. from anger to love. Any problems, big or small, were to be kept quiet about, lest “they” find out. A front of happiness should be kept up at all times. The thing was, this was expected inside the house (it was never a home to me), not just in public.

Consequently, I was in some ways even more fucked-up than the average teenager. I had the usual rampaging hormones and feelings, but was even less well equipped than most of my peers to deal with them. So I became ashamed of some of the things I was feeling.

Then something made the shame worse. At 15, I realised I was pretty much equally attracted to boys and girls. A short time later, all the many shades between boy and girl joined my mental list of desirables (remember, dear reader, that gender largely rests between the ears, not the legs). Soon after, I met my first boyfriend. I also met my first serious girlfriend around the same time. She was from the Indian subcontinent and her skin was almost ebony on colour. She was beautiful, and I think she may have been the first girl I loved. Then my parents met her. That was when I discovered my family were racists. More shame.

Shame barely begins to describe what I felt if I allowed myself to think about all this back then. So, mostly, I buried it. But it was like the bubble underneath the wallpaper. You can push it down, but unless you deal with it, it will just pop up again somewhere else.

It took me years to get straightened out. I self-identify as pansexual now and feel no shame about it. The old shame is like a memory of a memory now, almost gone. Almost.

 

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Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

WickedWednesday: Your Prompt is Not My Prompt…

… sorry Rebel, found no inspiration from the WickedWednesday prompt.

But here is an old photo (hence the quality) which shows nothing, but suggests everything

What do you think is going on out of camera shot?

Silverdrop loves her ankles being grabbed.

Silverdrop loves her ankles being grabbed.

 

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Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

SilverHubby shown at the waist, clothed, his hands holding a collar.

WickedWednesday: The Day Before You Came

I used to be jealous.

What of?

WARNING: squishy stuff alert.  🙂

I used to be jealous of:-

  • The looks I saw some people who were obviously romantically involved giving each other.
  • Friends who spoke of the emptiness they felt when they were away from their other halves.
  • People who spoke about how supporting their partner was.
  • People who couldn’t wait to see their partner again.
  • Couples who held hands all the time.
  • The loving smiles, looks and touches exchanged between some couples.
  • People who spoke of how welcoming their sexual partners were in bed.
  • Men who were open about their bisexuality (or pansexuality as I think of myself today).
  • People who had the strength to walk away when they finally acknowledged there was no point in staying in a loveless relationship.
  • Those who were capable of expressing their emotions to their partner.
  • Those who said they could talk with their partner about anything in the world. Even the hard relationship stuff that comes up for us all from time to time.

But all of this was happening up until the day before you came into my life.

The routine day sung about so beautifully in this song is quite unlike how mindless mine was back then. But the emotion, the emptiness just slays me – even now, although it isn’t as strong, being just a memory.

 

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Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked