Returning to My First Orgasm

It’s been one of those days… the kind that lingers all the way to my marrow. So here I am...bath drawn, water warm and waiting, my vibrator waiting... and what to do with this rose? I find myself wanting to be… attended to. Indulged, just a little. It feels almost decadent. Almost like something meant to be shared. I can’t help but wonder how it might feel to have someone here… someone attentive in that unspoken way, a touch dangerous with their tenderness… the kind who takes their time, who notices the small things without being told. But… I suppose I’ll have to make do with my own company tonight. Which, if I’m being honest, isn’t the worst consolation. I can be quite persuasive when I want to be… and I do know exactly how I like to be treated. Still... It’s a shame, really. 🌹

The morning light is soft… but I’m not feeling particularly innocent. No makeup, no effort… just a mask between you and me. I thought I’d let you wonder what’s underneath.

Newly divorced and learning about my sexuality and my own self pleasure.

A little fun that began on the couch caused us to quickly forget about the camera and transition to the bedroom. I was going to trim the off-camera scene but the sounds emanating from the other room...good heavens! Steamy!

It's Valentine's Month, and I've been practicing my oral skills! How am I doing? What are some tips or tricks you suggest that might spice up the big day? ;)

It's Saturday night, and if I'm honest, my heart is a little heavy. I've tried all the things—worked out, stayed busy, checked off the boxes of self-care—but some nights sadness lingers anyway. So tonight, I'm choosing not to run from it. I'm choosing to sit quietly with myself, offer myself a little grace, and practice the often difficult art of self-love. Healing isn't always beautiful. Sometimes it looks like a woman alone on a Saturday night, loving herself enough to stay.

Just a little witchy fun this afternoon.

Sometimes, a girl just needs a solo afternoon to thoroughly enjoy herself on a Friday afternoon free of work and obligations.

One last time. We were both feeling a little sad as I packed my bags. Jack had been watching sedately from the couch as I sorted my belongings. A week was a long time to be apart. In this modern age, a week doesn't seem that long with the advancements we have in technology, but after spending two weeks cuddling every night, a week apart was going to seem like a month. The thought of leaving him on such a sad note, with my bags waiting by the door, was unbearable. But my love for Jack was so deep that I was determined to change his mood, to give him one last time, knowing the emotional impact of our separation.

It's a lonely Monday, and my heart aches. So tell me... will you pretend you're on FaceTime with me tonight? Keep me company while the stars burn themselves across the sky? Tell me what you want. Flirt with me a little. Make me laugh. Stay up far too late with me. Because tonight, I'd much rather lose track of time with someone delicious than be alone with my thoughts.