Saturday, 28 November 2009

It is time to take a risk.

Fk my previous post. I no longer care. I'm going to stop watching crap. Crap that doesn't make me happy.

It's all about being selective and knowing what I want. And by watching I also mean observing in this space called real life. I no longer care for anything LESS in real life so I won't be observing the less.

I wrote in my diary (a new thing) a few lines about how I feel. I couldn't share with anyone. I didn't care. I want to say this out loud but I don't care if my closest friends don't hear it. I'll say it out loud to anyone.

People get mocked for making a decision based on a movie. I don't make a decision. Instead I really feel it. Yesterday I felt for the first time in some time like I was somewhere that really mattered to me. Dramatic I know but I felt everything in that movie. If anything was wasted on me during that two hour pleasure fest, it was out of the fact I was so fucking excited. I haven't felt that way for some time. Because I can be honest enough to admit that the things that annoy me don't excite me. They don't get my heart speeding up.

So in this world, I feel now is the time for me to go to an audition. I also yesterday was in the centre of a closed environment of a lot of people. This was earlier in the day, before fucking fantastic movie. Whilst talking with someone, I realised this IS what I want to do. I want to be here in this environment and contribute to it. Because I wasn't sure before.

Now is the time to be selfish. I know what I want. I want to take risks and finally I have the courage to live life. I walked faster and louder today that I have ever walked. Anytime I got uncomfortable I remembered something that means a lot to me. It's something you won't know about me. I have found my starting line. Now I can start. Wish me luck. I'll need it but I don't want a miracle!

I know this will sound like a fad or a phase. I know what I believe more than anyone else. I know what's inside of me better than anyone else. So I'm not going to mock it regardless of anyone else. Deep turbulent waters here I dive in!

Yours messily,

Annoying K.

Friday, 27 November 2009

How To Save a Life.

I had an idea about this whilst watching Everwood, and this girl was pissing me off quite frankly. Her ex was dancing with another girl and she was all grumpy about it. Now okay she still has feelings for him but I hate this SELF possessiveness. That's not spelt right. So I thought about someone having feelings for the male this other female still had feelings for. And how he evolves. How things perhaps dont work out for everyone but its a real, adult world. More on this soon!

Wednesday, 25 November 2009



What are you doing here? I'm not your mother


Oh fuck it. I wanted some space before I could just shout oh hey i shaved my hoo haa. I mean one doesnt just come out with that, does one? Ahem!

Well I did. I did it cos I had to get my legs waxed and quite frankly it got to the stage where my hair bush was flowing out of my knickers. You'd think it put me of mastubating. It's certainly put you off? Well fuck ...

So I'm all smooth. And boy do I love it. One thing though, lace or even denim makes it itchy and I need some cream mild enough to put there. Sudocream any good for front sides?

When I shaved, I had to be very careful to the point I wanted to hide under my covers in bed and go to sleep forever...I mean it's just SO exposed. I saw my lips, whatever the right term is, who cares,!, and I'm not the kind of girl to question if that's normal but yes..careful!

Well now I've started I intend to keep this up every week ho for show. The idea that I'm all smooth underneath makes me unbelievably aroused.

As I was getting torture waxed (only my legs...for now) I was thinking about females and body hair. For me I want to be smooth because it means I'm ready. It's there. It's available. You know what I mean. And the idea of someone wearing leather gloves against my smooth body whilst they're all dressed and I'm naked in every's very sexy for me.

But you know it's also attractive to have tan skin in the sense it makes it look more touchable. Unless they empty five bottles of spray tan on me, I'm not going to get that look so I make the most of my whitish olivey (read "yellowy") skin. It's very smooth that I will give myself.

So my "point" do what you want. Why should any woman have to do something like shave or wax her body hair if she doesn't want to? You think I'd do that if it didn't please me? HELL NO!!It's all about pleasing me. Men? Who cares. I'm in touch with my own sexuality..ooh little pathetic boast si vous plait (sp..what sp?!) to be confident with what I have regardless what they think. Occasionally I would like a man to please me but I'm all about the exploration. I can get there without a man. I get there on my own, with strangers, with women, with toys; used to hate em before, now it turns me on to even read about it.

Thursday, 19 November 2009

Men have nipples and they look good, get over it and let me get some sleep!

I tell you something insomnia takes away your imagination. After the longest, coldest, windiest walk I'm physically tired too but will that help me sleep? Nope. I know the reason for my insomnia but I await medical help for this. And not something I hope which is going to be dangerous.

It could be worse.

By the way what's this horseshit about men's nipples? Some of them are sensitive and wht would you rather see? A chest without nipples? Would look mannequin-y. Plus some women like to play with men's nipples. Fuck it, men have them because women like them. Use your imagination.

This is a crappola-er than usual post so I put a pic here. Because I said lick.
God something is niggling at me but I'm trying this thing where I don't talk about it on here, like that helps me sleep any better and sleep/lack of is not why I blog anyway, rather I do something about it and sleep thinking that I may.
Holy.. I looked up this pic because I want to channel some fuck off! attitude for tomorrow (yup that's how dork me works) in the way of Troy fucking Dyer. I found this. God, look at his arms. God.

Wednesday, 18 November 2009

The taboo of suicide.

I wanted to write about this today because as I was taking my walk earlier, I started thinking about this.

You know I get it. I get why people do it. I know people say they are cowards and if you end your life, you lose it all, you may not be happy now but you lose any chance of happiness in the future. It's cutting off everything. Very definite. I know people say this but have you seen the world we live in?

Do far off lands where humans are more important than statements exist?

I know who I am. I know what I like. I can live with different views and different passions, one person's trash is another's obsession, passion and love.. but I just think the stakes are rising and rising. Everything despite the fact technology is getting better and bettter, is harder. I don't think it's too late to get to some kind of humanity. If it ever existed. People talk of nowadays; from what I've read in history, the past is more terrifying to me, I think society has always been more bad than good and humanity always kind of low. Values have definitelty worsened but then where values existed before, there was sometimes if not often racism, sexism and other prejudicies.

So what if one day you have everything but it's not enough? Not that you want more. But you just want peace. In any sense. You want everyone to stop going one way whilst you go the other. So you just think why don't I stop? Cowardly. Giving up. Yes. But what about pain and suffering and fatigue? I don't mean to say that suicide is a good decision if you feel any of these but these are reasons. And if not any of those, what if you just don't have anything more to give and see? You can never say for sure what may happen in the future but if you are perceptive and sensitive to that around you, you can have a pretty good idea. And I have to say chances are you'll be right.

See I know we are not supposed to talk like this. Think like this. But I can read"something like" the Bell Jar and to be honest, I get her totally, I would do what she did even if I don't go through what she did.

It's a little like watching a movie like Hard Candy and finding elements of romance and eroticism more meaningful than some sultry, jazz music playing movie that is supposed to be erotic and or romantic. It's not the idea that you think and feel differently to mainstream or even independant ( I don't care for a fair few of those movies) but the fact that all you got told and all you saw and believed in when you were young turned out to be bullshit in the sense it could be lies or just a different world to the one you inhabit. There's always sugar coating in a lot of things and I'm always thankful when something or someone isn't. Actually the more I grow older the more I appreciate that.

And so I go on. On here and in life.

One last thing though and I will post more on this "topic." To someone who may feel this way, I think I understand. Message me. Comment. Find me. If nothing else, even if we are different, we could form a bond. They tend to do things to people, stuff that matters not the every day bullshit, bonds go deeper, even though they may not be enough.

Love? Be it romantic, for family, friends, it is priceless and it means more than anything but I can see why people have love and still want to go.

And carpe diem? I believe in it, it could be my world, perhaps in some way it is, but I can see why people still want to go.

Tuesday, 17 November 2009

Hard Candy, Hayley's pov

I don't want to explain things away but I wanted to explore various things. I saw this video someone made on youtube and Hayley's reaction to Jeff when she first sees him. I don't think that particular part was a performance. It got me thinking a few thoughts that would be running through her head.

to come soon

Monday, 16 November 2009

Eroticism and Hard Candy

So I always wanted to do one of those essays at Uni. This of course is nothing like an essay.

I was watching this movie Hard Candy last night. I love it. I've seen it three times and unless you watch it every day (don't recommend doing that for any movie; you see I have to say DPS is a little ruined for me now- insert sad face)..and so unless you watch Hard Candy everyday, it will always get to you.

What's it about? Ellen Page pre Juno mega fame plays a 14 year old girl who contacts this older man she's been communicating with online. He's played by Patrick Wilson who if you have ever seen Little Children (another good movie and it's got Kate Winslet) is quite lush.

Now Wilson's Jeff knows how young this girl is. I think he has also been linked to other young girls. He also photographs models for a living.

Page plays Hayley who starts off different. And then the movie takes a turn. I won't ruin it but I will say it's intelligent, provocative not in the way you think, tense, a little horrific (not Saw but I mean one certain scene; ouch!!) and best of all it plays with your mind.

The movie is not only beautifully directed but it allows the audience to play along, think and question themselves.

A young girl is a young girl no matter if she imitates a woman as said in the movie. I believe in rules and morals and humanity. I think we should never be complacent about abuse to another living thing. We should also know what abuse is. And I believe in adults taking responsibility over consensual, non consensual.

But I believe in underage, rape, REALLY taboo being explored via role plays, writing. And I'll talk about incest another time.

Hard Candy is erotic. And I think it is also dementedly romantic. At one point Jeff says to Hayley she can cry, scream let it all out, if she wants he can hold or he will keep his distance. Hayley knows her own mind, she is very independent and she is initially shy around him, with actually I felt it initially comes across as nervous energy. And he is calmer and mature. And then he has this clearly perverse side. Their conversation flows about music, books, there's light kind of friendly teasing between these two characters. Not just players in a game but fully dimensional characters. And when things get going there's heat and I know it's not just me who found their interactions erotic on a certain level. For some people it could be the interactions in themselves and for me it was the level each went to. In some weird demented way at one point they could have been perfect together. But they were not at all, that's the thing. To go into that would be going into the movie. So just watch it.

In the end the movie was more about something else. Along the way all these issues are raised. Amazing how much you can talk about this movie. Debate, talk, think, re think, go back to it. Honesty is key.

Thursday, 12 November 2009

DPS fanfiction

Because life is Canon.

Okay ignore that.

But I love dps fan fiction. In case you're not aware, this is fanfiction around the characters in the movie Dead Poets Society. Oh I have watched other movies trust me. Bicentenial Man. Mrs Doubtfire. Insomnia. Oh do you see a link there? I'm shitting. I actually apart from Doubtfire and DPS havent seen those other Robin Williams movies though the man is a god.

ANYWAY the fanfiction actually..well the one I adore..doesn't refer to Keating. I sort of think of Keating as being a strictly ladies man and I also don't fancy him. I could though. Moving on, I really REALLY like the Todd and Neil fanfiction. I don't think they are gay in the movie and I think strong friendships and bonds can exist without someone labelling it or putting in some homosexual feelings. But then sometimes it just so happens you are straight and you do have the odd thought about your friend. Embrace it. Don't be repulsed.
But yes Neil and Todd fanfic not Neil and Todd movie..let me explain, you can't stop me, it's kind of written and this will probably put you off and want to hatemail the writers but it's kind of written as though Todd is the girl and Neil the boy. I do not for any second refer to same sex relationships like that BUT what I'm trying to get across is that's probably why I like this particular fan fiction. To be honest a lot of girls relate to Todd. So do a lot of boys I'm sure but there is just something about him that makes him so girly relatable BUT NOT GIRLY. Nevertheless his character in this fan fiction when he is with Neil is even more exposed and vulnerable. And shy in a way. And he just comes across as still a boy but I think more girls would be able to relate to him in this fan fiction than boys.

Another but not the main reason I love their fanfic is just the differences and yet also similarities between the two characters. It's amazing how much they are linked. But actually I read recently one character is realist and one is fantasist and that seperates the two but the union between those two key differences makes for an interesting read.

One of my stories is actually based on them and will continue to be.

However the main reason I love Todd and Neil fanfiction is their interaction. Yes not just the physical but it's incredibly romantic. And sometimes it just has that something that I don't see anywhere else. Because I'm an idiot and it's probably all in my mind when it comes to this and I have these preconcieved notions..perhaps..but nevertheless there is something about the shy person who's just unable to hide emotionally, oooh pretentious, but yes something about that person who the other lets just call him Neil does not want to change. Shy person remains shy. No catfights. No bitches. No nice dress. It's kind of a different world to boy and girl. You'll see what I mean. Google dps fan fic and get to the juice. Enjoy. I did.

Tuesday, 10 November 2009

Those Two ctd

I imagined a girl coming out of Scott's room. I imagined bumping into her as I was going into his room and her looking me over. So I put on my best disgusted face. My problem is I always smile when I see a human being.

There was no girl. I knocked on Scott's half closed door. There was no answer and for some reason I found myself pushing the door open slowly. I stepped inside his room. I didn't feel guilt. I felt exhiliration.

He wasn't there. I walked up to his desk. I wasn't interested in his anime like last time, I just wanted to be near something that he touched. His desk was bare. I touched it with the back of my fingers and then my palm. I wanted to lick it. There is something about cold hard wood which leaves a bitter taste nevertheless I wanted to strip off and put my saliva and pussy juices on it.

I touched my palm to the desk again. This time I placed it fully on the surface. I imagined submitting to him. I placed my other palm to the wood and as I did so I saw a reflection of my red lips in the window ahead. I liked what I saw. I was submissive and wanton and needy. I wanted him to run his hand over my skirt covered bottom. His hair would touch mine and he would caress me all over. Rough and smooth. Rough and smooth.

"What are you doing here?"

I was soon drawn out of my thoughts.

Sometimes I think James may find me like this and I wouldn't want to ruin their friendship so I'd toss my own arse out.


He didn't look angry. He stood there watching me. Then he closed the door.

I was mostly facing him but my hands wouldn't leave his desk.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." I replied. "And you?"

"Oh yeah.."He mumbled something. I always hated men who imitated some so called cool rebel but Scott did it out of shyness, so I thought.

"Do you want me to go?" I knew my voice was just a whisper. I would masturbate in my own room about him taking me.

"No." He walked up to me.

"Scott." I whispered again.

He said my name against my lips. Then he kissed me. I lifed one hand wanting to run it through his hair. But then for some reason put it back on the desk. And so I tried to lift it again.

He laughed.

I laughed against soft lips. "Laughing at me won't work, boy" I gasped.

He lifted his head and his eyes I swear turned black. He placed a hand over my stomach and leaned his head down, his eyes on my breasts. He kneeled down. I watched him touch one hand going up my sensible leather boots. When he reached my knee covered tights, I felt his warmth. He continued up and up, now on my thighs.

"OH" I watched his eyes. His hand was on my exposed pussy. This morning I had cut through the middle of my tights. I didn't wear panties. I don't know about stockings or crotchless, but I was a SLUT.

He gaze locked with mine.

He stuck his head under my skirt and touched his lips to my wet pussy. He ate me out. I felt his hands squeeze my arse as he made sure I was sitting on his face.

James did this. he was doing it too. It only made me hornier to imagine the two men together pleasuring me.

As I had that thought I felt a sharp pinch. He fingers were plucking one my tits through my jumper. My bra was flimsy and under my fitted jumper my breasts were heaving and noticeable.

He hadn't finished eating me out when with his lips wet with my cunt juices he stuck them over my other breast through my jumper. I could imagine there being marks on my jumper from this. His other hand did not let go of my other breast. Both my nipples were hard as rocks. And he sucked on one, plucked the other and tried to mash my two boobs together still under material, trying to fit both of my nipples in his mouth.

I touched my pussy and stuck a finger in it. He break away from my breasts and saw me. I had my eyes half open and closed because I was going to come very soon. I felt my cunt drip down my thigh. Scott left my breasts and licked the cunt juice up and down my thigh.

"Shit" I moaned.

I stuck my breasts out hoping he would get back to them. He lifted my top up. We were both breathing heavily. He placed his mouth over one of my boobs and pushed my full tits together and sucked on them both.

"Scott" I fingered myself harder. I wanted to do every single thing I could to him. I wanted him to stick his dick between my breasts and tit fuck me. I wanted him to penetrate my arsehole and stretch me and spank me against his desk. I wanted him to lift me up and fuck my pussy as I wrapped my legs around his body.

He seemed to have reached down just when I felt I really needed my nipples to be sucked more and my round flesh licked and laved and he licked my finger and my pussy at the same time. I came.

I was breathing like I was starved of oxygen and my cheeks were flaming and my body and face sweaty and dishevelled. And he was in a shirt and jeans and lips the only sign anything had happened. His hair only looked sexily dishevelled.

He continued licking me, lapping up every drop on my thighs.

to be continued..

Monday, 9 November 2009


"Fucking Hilton!" exclaimed Amy Sherman-Palladino. In a recent interview for Entertainment Weekly, the Gilmore Girls creator took a swipe at the heiress to absent-mindedness – after all, remind me again how this woman got to be so famous?

Sherman-Palladino is talking role models here, and while the very idea that said Paris could be one seems paradoxical enough to rip the space-time continuum of our universe apart, truth be told she's an idol to thousands of young women and teen/tween girls. Despite an internet sex tape. Despite a complete lack of vocab. Despite an engagement to a guy (also) called Paris. Such things do not make a role model. By admission though, if riding the cusp of fashion or keeping A-list company gets you on the front of Vanity Fair, then kids these days are more than likely to aspire to be you; meanwhile, making the cover of Time constitutes shockingly, much, much less.

Traditional feats of achievement just don't cut the mustard anymore. Getting shot nine times or married to Demi Moore on the other hand, counts for plenty. Higher still, in youth currency looking Hot is valued most of all. Over on Planet Hilton, unintelligence is bankable too, but also extremely alarming: being dense and uneducated is one thing, but propagating (or retailing) it through a television show is something else entirely. That The Simple Life (Hilton's inane "reality" road-trip through rural Americana with gal-pal Nicole Richie in tow) ran for three whole seasons is a disturbing fact in itself; that people watched it, and rooted for a couple of rich, privileged socialites clueless to no end lends only further proof to the notion that stupidity is the new cool. Brainless, yes, and yet Hilton survives – and thrives – in the public arena, something that isn't as unusual as it sounds: remember, the country is run by a man of seriously questionable intellect. But it's far too easy to heap blame on Bush, even if youth literacy appears on the decline, text messaging has rendered English obsolete, and the apostrophe is close to extinct. If you really want someone to point the finger at, the buck stops with Paris Hilton: after all, this girl isn't so much a person, but a living, seething brand of platinum and hot pink.

Critics say she's an expert at feigning the "dumb bitch" role, and together with Jessica Simpson and The Newlyweds, there may be some truth to that. But while The Simple Life may be in part a send-up – the whole "Wal-mart... do they make walls there?" head-clanger really just a self-scripted faux-naif – I don't buy that it's an act for a moment. On an episode of The Late Show with David Letterman earlier this year, Hilton was interviewed, and came across pretty transparent, I thought; so inarticulate and unresponsive was she, Dave could have just as well been talking to an 8-year-old. Or a brick wall. The words "like", "so" and "hawt" were repeated incessantly though (the latter trademarked, would you believe); similarly, kids today rely on a pea-sized lexis that extends about as far as "retarded" and "gay". What to get them this Christmas? A freakin' thesaurus.

Or the Gilmore Girls (repeats 5.30pm weekdays, TV2). According to Sherman-Palladino, a genuine role model for young women (or anyone for that matter) is Madeleine Albright. Who? The former first female Secretary of State. Coincidentally, Albright is to guest star in an upcoming episode of Gilmore Girls (season six, yet to screen here).

This, in an age where fickle celebrity guests are courted to appear at the beckoning of a publicist. No doubt that fame rates and is a marketer's dream, but to bypass the fail-safe pulling power of an "it" girl, and gun instead for a politician – or in the case of season five/episode six, Norman Mailer – deserves ample credit where it's due. No other show right now could pull a Mailer or an Albright off (on The O.C, they don't even know who Kofi Annan is), due in no small part to the world Sherman-Palladino's curated: full of clever, slightly eccentric people gifted with either prolific literary knowledge, obscure musical taste, guilty movie pleasures, encyclopedic pop-cult/current affairs awareness, or all of the above.

And how about this for a role model? Young, female, academic, reads obsessively, studies fanatically, aspires to attend Harvard, reads obsessively, wants to be Christian Amanpour, buys the New Yorker, has a Dave Eggers poster on her wall, reads obsessively...Clearly there's something askew in the world if girls would rather be Paris Hilton than Rory Gilmore (one half of the Girls), while guys would rather their perfect woman to be blonde and dumb as opposed to smart and cute. This happens to be as good an indication as to how shitbrained society can be: droves of vain, materialistic valley girls and their sunburnt boyfriends take comfort in having the lifestyle of Me reinforced by the Hilton image (including the illusion that being rich and aloof gets you places), while those few who know better and can see the forest for the trees value – albeit as a small minority – the much-needed idiosyncrasy of characters like the Gilmores. So they're the stuff of fiction, but at least they setting the right kind of example."

I know they're plugging the show but everyone who watches it says how different Rory is to other teenagers on tv. Well, was, since that show is no longer airing save for glorious repeats (which is when I caught the Gilmore bug).

I have to admit that Rory on paper and comes of as goody two shoes and a young woman who looks down and smirks at those she believes is below her. I hate people like that. So I am relieved to say she actually is the furthest thing from that when you watch the show. The girl has soul. And she's full of passion. And her one liners are truly witty. She lives her life. It's not for a second more boring than those who go the sex tape and jail route. And as a result her life is better; she values it. She hasn't compromised herself.

I want someone who's made sex tape to say they did it because they wanted to be known as a woman who loves sex and looked at in a dirty way and be notorious for that. For this dirty need to be known as whore or a slut. We all like to play dirty sometimes. Sex tapes could be their kink, I "dig" that.

But no it's just to get money! To get ahead in the world. And yes call me naive because I dare think you don't actually need to compromise yourself all the time to all these different extents to get ahead. Do something if you have a passion for it. Otherwise, I feel there's no need to prostitute yourself. Unless you value social status so much. But if you have any soul, you would as the wonderful quote goes, take the road less travelled by and that making all the difference. I believe so much in this quote.

And people aren't even interested in exploring. Look at sexuality; it's become cliched and this is when sex is one of the most honest things, beautiful things we have the luck to have.

It's one thing to be Lauren Conrad. It's another to be Paris Hilton. One I care a little about. The other, reminds me of those posers famous centuries ago and famous now, pompous, deluded, with males strutting around like dandies. She may care about the war, about terrorism, about violence, about medicine, about cancer, about poverty, homeless people but I couldn't care less that she cares.

Friday, 6 November 2009

"No one wants to see a round woman."

Right. But they exist. Still, short of getting a shot gun and sticking it the majority of the human race, there's really not much you can do about it.

So what you can do is create an elite world where only certain types of beautiful..I'll be very frank here..the very skinny people can be on a catwalk. See no other beauty exists. A woman must be so and so tall and so and so thin. Because if she wasn't, who knows you could get a round woman having the time of her life and then she would be happy and you would be..oh would be totally fucking jealous.

See here's the thing. If you Fashion World are going to call women who don't want to see very skinny women jealous, these women are calling you jealous too. And that my friends is progress. A never ending roundabout of abuse and shit. All because we can not evolve.

I still fail to understand to this day why it there are not more so called plus size models. And my God wouldn't you like totally die of shock if you saw a petite plus size model on the runway. Unthinkable! That woman isn't beautiful, get her off! Have her blend in. We do not want any positive attention on her because we don't believe it would be positive because it initally probably wouldn't because there are so may friggin stereotypes in this elitist, stupid, arrogant, money hungry, power greedy world!!


And don't even start on some models not being anorexic. Please you don't get to the state we have seen some in without trying.
And are you shitting me, since that heinous crime to humanity that infamous photoshopped ad, THIS is where we have got to...

Wednesday, 4 November 2009

Twilight, pornography and oh my.

In between my computer shutting down and me trying to express myself, I have almost given up. Detractors no relief for you. I said almost.

Okay so Twilight!

And isn't he just the creepiest looking man?!

As much as I don't think porn is empowering in any sense and as much as I don't feel the need to be empowered, I like porn.

Sure I do want to see changes in the world but I don't get a kick out of empowerment.

Ugh that word.

So porn..not as stimulating because you aren't using your mind as much as say reading, writing or photographs. Those are more sexually satisfying plus you actually get to use your brain cells and probably because you get to use them.

Even this crappy Karma Sutra book I bought (more on this later) said the brain is the biggest sexual organ..or should I rephrase the most important..


So whilst I know the porn terms and stars' names I don't think the hottest rated bodies compare to actions. It's all about what you do not what you look like. Huh, so porn has a lesson after all!

But seriously, Europeans seem "free-er" when it comes to porn. And I don't say this because of the porn link but perhaps they are "free-blah" when it comes to the other things in life too?

I'm making generalisations I know. Tut tut.

I've yet to meet someone who is open, more open than me, and not a creep. And as uncompromising as me. It's not good enough to say that's just the way things are. I don't want to be included in any rank but I do want to know there are people prepared to evolve.

But then speaking of meeting and date rape, I'm not a social butterfly at the moment. I would like to go to a dungeon though. But aren't they quite well non erotic in reality? The books make them sound so good. And why do I get memories of Angus Deaton and Jamie Theakston two creep Brit men caught in compromising positions. Uck. Time to excersise it off!

Love this site. has great groups and active discussions. Amongst many other things. Everything you can think of and room for you to add anything they haven't already.

Has some GREAT erotic pictures.

You can follow my activity on there by clicking on Groups. Then Writer's Corner and you'll see Those Two under the discussions section. Then click on my name. I have posted under various other groups and fantasies. All naughty of course.

More on Those Two

Links to the previous parts and some more Those Two

I had mixed dreams last night. Although it was annoying part of me enjoyed waking up early hours of the morning, I got to stay in bed and I had just woken from a delicious dream.

My dreams were vivid. Last night I dreamt someone was licking my pussy. Frank I know but I could picture it all wet, alive and pink for this person. It seemed he had me in front of a crowd of a few people. He was walking around me telling me and them what a beautiful pussy it was. Of course that made me grow wetter. I'm sure I dreamt he was eating me out in front of these men and one woman. I don't recall that part so well but I woke up throbbing and stuck my butt out as if someone was in bed next to me.

Or perhaps it was a not so old habit from when James was sleeping with me.

James was still away and since last night where I hung up on him, or was it this morning, we hadn't spoken. We would speak tonight unless he was feeling particularly sadistic. The gorgeous freak.

I dreamt I had babies. I was in charge of looking after these small creatures. Two of them I think. I could romanticise and tell you it was one boy and one girl. I don't know.

When I woke up I felt responsible. And horny. I had masturbated before I slept. I couldn't help it. I googled tits. Then fake tits. Then hard nipples. As I googled I started to touch my own hard nipples. I was wearing a white t shirt and I knew that always made them look bigger. Almost gigantic if reflected from the right surface.

I came and imagined both James and Scott.

I woke up knowing I wanted to do something about those two afterall. It was a very sexual relationship except I had to tell James about the relationship with Scott part. James was my boyfriend. Scott was my sometime I suppose you could call it "fuck buddy." I felt a connection with this quiet young man. I felt we were alike in some ways.

And there was a time James and Scott fucked me together. They didn't have any attraction for each other, or did they? But I didn't care so much about that. It was just two cocks in me. Not just two cocks but their two cocks. And James had watched Scott fuck me before he pulled him away and took me in his arms and possessed me on the carpet of his room.

So I woke up and got dressed. Underneath my clothes I wore no underwear. I was glad I shaved yesterday. I was bare and so sensitive. For Scott.

Tuesday, 3 November 2009


It was a shock seeing her again. He remembered the first time he saw her. It had rained that day. From a distance he could see her in her green coat.

Today, he recognised her. She looked perhaps a little different. He saw many people each working day. It took him a short time but he knew he had seen her before.

"Hello. If you'd like to follow me" He said.

He opened the door of his office to her. Once she was in, he came inside.

He closed the door and smiled to her. Walking to his chair, he told her to take a seat.

He didn't normally watch his patients every move but he was drawn to her in some way. She was not like his other patients. It was in the way she looked, the way she walked, the way she pulled the chair to sit down. There was shyness in each aspect.

Once she was sat, he felt his office feel lighter. He was reminded of the first time he saw her.

He told her his name and then asked how he could help her.

"Well, it's about my sleep. I haven't been able to sleep properly for a few years now."

He nodded.

"I wake up in the night and I get uncomfortable in the mornings."

Her voice was the same as when he first met her. He remembered now. She came to him in the pharmacy he worked at during nights. He dealt with her prescription. It was near 10 that night.

He realised he should say something. Each time she spoke, he felt her voice as though it was nearer to him than she was.

"I have your file here. " He motioned to his computer. She nodded. He wanted to help her. He typed her name on his screen. Her first name as spelled out on the form. Her writing was nothing like his. In fact possibly nothing like anyone's he'd seen. He smiled. Then he lessened the smile hovering around his lips and typed in her surname.

"Your name rings a bell." Amongst other things.

"Yes." She smiled.

Was she always quiet like this? It was funny her quiet nature compared to those he worked with everyday. He couldn't remember the last time he wasn't on his own that he had almost a minute of silence.

"I remember you." He said it without thinking. He didn't look up at her. He couldn't.

"I remember you too." Her voice would feel exquisite..

He looked up at her, just a quick glance but she wouldn't keep eye contact with him. She would look at him in short glances. Then she looked down slightly.

He could hear her swallow. Everything in the room became maginified. Was he making her nervous? As a doctor he never had a problem communicating with his patients. As this was a University town he had talked with a lot of young women about sexual matters. It was a part of his job and sex was a part of life and something to be enjoyed and celebrated.

"How did you find the previous medicine?" He asked the quiet young woman opposite him.

"It was very strong. I didn't finish my course to be honest. But my problem's almost gone."

"If you have any problems don't hesitate to come to me." Why was his voice lower and softer? A small part of him made it, but not all.

"Thanks." She said it politely but he managed to catch a quick glimpse of her smile. He wanted to make her smile again.

"So I've looked at your file, "He said her name, "If it's okay with you, can I take your blood pressure?"

She agreed to it.

He walked towards her with his instrument. He saw her stand up. She was petite. He saw her take off her coat. He gave her her space but for some reason had seen her breasts outlined through her sweater. They jiggled just a bit. And he couldn't stop his gaze going to the rest of her. Nice jeans he thought.

He watched her roll up the sleeve of her light green sweater. Her arm was exposed to him. It was pale. But not white like his own. It was soft.

He took her arm in his and wrapped the material around it.

"Is this too tight?" He cleared his throat.

"No." She said it softly and this time met his eyes. Oh Lord, she had brown eyes. And he hadn't seen ones like this for some time.

As he increased the pressure he tried to concentrate on the techinque. Once he got what he needed, he waited for a few seconds.

He said it out loud.

"Yeah" She whispered.

He got what he wanted. He touched her arm and unwrapped the binding material. Her arm was hot.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yes." She said.

"Your arm was hot, when I touched it right now."

"Contrast to my hands." She said lightly.

He pulled away from her. And then walked to his seat."And mine."

When he said that, he saw her eyes. They looked full of life this very moment.

"Well, no problems with your blood pressure."

She nodded. There was a woman with a round, blushing face opposite the desk from him in the same room as him. Her hair was very dark and her eyes were even darker. And she was his patient, he had to remind himself.

Boy was she glad to be out of there. It was so embarassing. She was so embarassing. Yet she never changed. She hoped she didn't baffle or scare him too much. She knew her tendency to make people nervous or hate her. He didn't look as though he wanted to hit her like most men and women did so she wouldn't have to change her doctor.

But whatever happened it was never enough to stop her needs. And it was those needs that kept her going because she would have abandoned all hope and seen the world for what it was and left it. It was sad to know the truth and realities and it would take many revolutions to make one change but all this didn't stop her from thinking about whips, chains and kinky desires.

She took solice in the good things in life. Sunshine. Air. Music. And they would give fill her up.

Monday, 2 November 2009

More Slowburn

Mike tore his permit up. Friday was over.Melanie told him she needed to get away from the city. But he had a big case coming up. He told her he could leave it (he would) but she actually swore and kissed him. He wanted her to do that again, the kissing part, so he repeated what he said and she said this time against his lips, that his work meant a great deal to her as it meant a great deal to him. The way she said that.. He had a vision of her doing his tie up every morning, their own place, having wild sex in the nights, he'd be tired, she'd be tired but unless they invested in seperate bedrooms there would be no way he could resist her.

He missed her every night she had been gone. It had been roughly 8 and she wanted to go this retreat before her first counselling appointment. She was booked in to see someone out of the city because she joked she liked the big gardens. She was reminded of some movie she saw and the shenanigans those characters got up to.It wasn't One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, she said. It was David and Lisa. He almost choked on his own saliva.

The girl had a naughty streak. She was getting counselling, not full time checking into rehabilitation of any sort. He wondered if she seemed to want to.She was a completist through and through. Just wanting to get closer and closer to the truth and in this case , her truth.But then she'd be quite careless about somethings which made him consider his proposal she come should work for him.God if ever he couldn't figure a person out..And the thing of it was, he smiled, he'd keep trying.He remembered everything she said to him before she left. They had spent two days completely together.

This wasn't the first time this happened. Weekends were tricky. They literally had to drag themselves out of bed to get some food. He discovered her love for Italian. She told him it was evident in her hips. He told her he didn't care. It was her. She could double her weight, 60 to 120, he'd fuck her every day against the wall -practicality be damned.And their first goodbye to their last. He made love to her. Trying to be tender.

He had a thing about her breasts. She moaned when he kissed their plump flesh, she said she was saggy, but he thought they looked womanly and when she bent down, it turned him on.Her nipples were amazing. So responsive. They got hard in the air even. Round, brown, perky. Just the second best thing he had in his mouth. The ultimate was the taste of her pussy. Even she liked that. He saw her licking her fingers after masturbating in front of him. The whole thing made him wild. He had already shot his load but his dick jerked when he saw her take her fingers and swirl her tongue around the middle two, each by each. She looked him straight in the eye when she did that.It would be a test to see her now. So many nights without her.

He hadn't given in. They said they wouldn't masturbate. And he finished so late that he couldn't call her after work. And didnt want to disturb her in the mornings. Phone sex would be a new adventure.Just one of many.When he reached her retreat, he took out the bouquet of flowers he bought for her. It was funny actually that her going away would be the first time she got flowers from him. Before she left, he bought her a gift just to tease her. It wasn't a cd. Or a book. Instead, he was on his way to get something in that category ..but something caught his eye in the window. He thought about her wearing those sexy red satin panties, just them but then it wouldn't really be a gift for her would it? He went a step further and thought he'd make her eight days an eternity. With a wicked smile he purchased the dildo. It would be a good size for her and ooh he would love to fuck her with it after he she fucked his cock of course, but no masturbation remember? He reminded her when he handed her the gift all wrapped in pink packaging. She raised her eyebrow at the choice of gift paper and then laughed when she saw the gift. "I promise, Sir."God she needed to stop calling him that. And when she said "Detective." It was wrong he got aroused by this.

He couldn't take it so he fucked her with his fingers just before they left the house. The front door wasn't even locked. He slapped her breast with one hand under her sweater. She made a noise and he looked up to see it was similar to the time he gagged her.The less he thought about that the better. He had to try considerably hard to take his mind away. Though the image of her when they got to the retreat, was something he kept pictured. Her face had gone so..quiet. She tended to do that but this time, there was something to her that frightened him a little.When he asked her, she said the retreat reminded her of a holy place. Places of relaxation were holy to some. But he argued..then she just snuggled up to him.


"God..Melanie." He saw her as soon as he walked through the front doors.She moaned as he kissed her.

"You're blushing wildly."

She closed her eyes. Was she embarassed?

"I tend to do that. Especially in situations like this."

"I see the hot oils haven't stopped your wit" He tapped her bottom slightly.

"Mmm" She smelled the flowers.

"Oh yeah..for you."

"Gee..what next marriage?"

"Have I missed you."

"I've missed you too."

"Let me get my luggage" She continued, "I want us out of here."

"Seems a nice place though."

"Yeah. I just really missed you."He laughed with her as he took her suitcase."Yup it's just so heavy Detective."

"Mel" He whispered

"Have you got your cuffs with you?"

"Dont do this" His dick would literally burst out his pants.

"Its been hard you know not to shove that dildo in my pussy."

"I could do it now. Im so wet."

"Goddamn it Melanie."

"Mmm"He dropped her suitcase and kissed her on the lawn."Take me here."



"No.." He whispered

"Pretty please with a pink cherry and I'm not wearing a stitch of underwear..Detective..not just on top"Mike shoved his dick against her denim covered cunt. "Im going to fuck you so hard. But not here. It's not decent"

"We could get arrested"


"Exactly" she smiled wickedly.He shook his head. Somethings would never change.

"Go to that wall, stick your butt out, naked and waiting for me."

Yes the sight of her against the wall, her softness to its hardness. Her tits pushed against the surface and her arse stuck out in the cold air..

Slut, he thought. He didn't imagine she swayed her bottom slightly. Her sweater was half over her boobs and her jeans completely off.He stroked his hand over one of her cheeks. And it was better as he thought it would be with when he had gloves. She seemed to like leather. And he wanted to give it to her.

He hadnt eaten her pussy for more than a week. He sat on the ground and took one lick of her cunt, feeling her outerlips and a little of her clit.He could hear her "Oh" and he kissed her lips and clit, pressing his lips together. Then he couldn't wait and pushed his face higher. As much as he loved her thighs, toned, shapely and soft, he was starved for her wet cunt.

As he ate her out, he could her squeal. She never squealed before. So she was correct in saying she hadn't masturbated once in that week away from him."Good girl" he couldnt help but whisper but it was no use as she wouldnt be able to hear him for all his savage tongue fucking of her pussy.

"God Mike, no..I'll come."

Yes I want you all over my face he thought.

"No..No.." He almost laughed at how she tried to push away but in doing so it only pushed a part of his face between her thighs more, and he got access to more of her lips which he liked to stroke with his tongue and occasionally taking a bit between his lips and he almost wanted to bite her not her lips but deeper.

"I can't come unless you're in me Mike!" She shouted. Someone would come out he know it. And they'd watch. He was too past it to care about his job.

"Oh oh Michael. You're so good.."Come for me. Come for me he said in his mind as he sucked on her button and had his lips open against all of her pussy. She was tight but in his mouth. Literally in his mouth.

Oh. Yes. Her pussy juices all over his chin. He got quite a bit in his mouth and she was like honey that some of it would come on his chin.

This was bliss.

"Michael I love you."


Introducing myself.

I don't believe in keeping desires secret. If you want to, fine. But I've been given hands and a mouth and I intend to use them. I don't want to be invisible. Or mute. Or someone unable to express themselves. If I stuttered viciously or couldn't see, I would get every help I could to make sure I could still express myself.

To me it's so important.

And I like it when other people do that. I really like it. I respect them for that so much.

The "rules", mystery, things like this; don't care. For me I prefer just doing it. For the other times, that's what role play is for!

And one more thing. This blog like I say is a diary for me. I feel it is incredibly important for you to see where I am coming from. With me, I hate mind games. I hate bullshit. So everything I have written on here is from my gut. That's how I write. Unless I needed money to survive, that's how I would live. You'd think by now we humans could live from the gut, they put a man on the moon after all.

For me that's the ultimate freedom. No I'm not talking about Neil Armstrong my friend.

And let me be more and more self indulgent, I want so much from life. But I intend to get it without compromising myself, meaning I want romance. So I won't be friending anyone I want a romance with. My friends are my FRIENDS. I'm not a woman who from friendship lust develops. I believe in passion. The people I have had anything with are those who have felt unconditional attraction for me. That is, it just exists. No explanation. No I love your personality. It's just pure raw attraction. And the personality thing may come in later. It's not as important as lust or passion. That's what I want. That's what I have gotten. That's what I deserve. That's what I'm about.

I want it all or nothing at all. No half measures. If I die without having experienced the most exquisite delight and pain, it will be because I didn't get my all. So I will never have settled for less and I will die happy with that knowledge.

Don't assume you can peg me. You can't with anyone. I'm shy. I'm fearless. I'm sweet. I'm a bitch. I want equality. I'm a slut.

So I don't write this blog to create a persona. I write because I'm kinky and I like to express myself, sometimes the kinks and sometimes not.

I am thankful for those of you who are reading my blog. I want you to be more free though and contribute. However and having said that, thank you so much for your time and knowing you are reading this, well it's not just nice of you to devote your time, it's other things too. So thanks xxxx

Thought this was interesting. Funnily enough came up on a search for "toned" !! I'm not quite sure about double standards, thats a very easy phrase to use and I'm tempted to use an analogy but I'll stop. It's just if you look at history, you see women have suffered more than men, im probably not wrong in saying, a lot more than men..simply for the fact they are women. So whilst I think there should be equality between the genders I think it's high time women got the power.
The problem with power is it doesn't seem to share very easily.

ANYWAY, this guy talks about nice men being ignored and women not giving them the time of day. I'll talk more about this later. But I have two things to say for now; women like romance and i myself like who i like. I have gone for people that according to theory i wouldnt go for. The whole package, nice charming whatever, never really done that. It has to be someone who just clicks with you. Not even instantly. But someone who you think about. The question is do our preconceptions interfere with who we think about?

Sunday, 1 November 2009

And I'm telling you I won't stop caring

I was watching Dream Girls and you know, everyone knows the bit where Effie says And I'm Telling You I'm Not Going. Rather she doesn't say it. She doesn't just sing it. This is what they mean by powerhouse. Jennifer Hudson didn't just hit the notes, her whole body, her face was feeling her performance as Effie.

See I will always tune into this movie because of Effie. She is all about getting the most out of life and having to fight hard for it. And meeting prejudice upon prejudice upon prejudice along the way.

Complacency is responsible for prejudice.

Complacency is responsible for the fact that Susan Boyle received groans, eye rolls and cat calls when she walked on the stage of Britains Got Talent.

Why the FUCK hasn't someone done something about complacency?

Why the fuck do we now in 2009 have a few plus size models?

Someone said why should we care about Effie.

I care about Effie. Because if you have ever felt pain in your life you will care.

And I care about her more so because some of this pain has been due to other people's prejudices.

For a woman it's not merely weight. It's the face. It's the hair. It's the nose. It's the eyes. It's the mouth. It's body shape too.

See I am never going to fit the ideals.

Let me be competely honest. And I want to talk about this;

I don't have feline eyes. I won't have long hair. I don't have a nose that points down. I don't have a wide mouth. I don't have a streamlined face. And my body at any weight won't be that of a glamour or showgirl. It's just an ordinary body. I just have an ordinary face. Except I happen to love them both.

And then, height. Something of more importance in certain cultures than others. But no doubt any short woman will have to put up with prejudices about that too, even if you have the other prerequisites.

Of course if I mention race you may shoot me or at least roll your eyes. However, if I did have white skin I know that things would be ever so slightly easier.

So being the non exotic looking but non white person that I am, let me tell you for someone who wants to be on stage at some point in their life, when people either smirk at you, look you over or ignore you, it's an unsaid rule and at times an unspoken prejudice that you should stay in the background.

So I get Effie.

And I'm telling you I won't stop caring.

I'll always speak out. Today it's writing. Tomorrow it's youtube. One day it will be the stage.

It's spanking Sundays but I woke up tres late today

And so we have ourselves some poetry.

It's from Love Letters From Great Men. A book I bought on Friday and have been excited about reading.
As the book says you don't need to be a literary genius to write a love letter. Some of these letters, some written by those who make a living by forming words, do not make sense. It's because they're written from the heart.
Blood pounds through their veins and one vein in particular as they write to the woman causing this. Every woman deserves a love letter.

I would love to type more but as I am literally typing from this book, I will just include a few passionate proses. For the sake of my fingers I decided to copy some from the net because the original words seem to be intact.

A heartfelt love letter can be read anywhere. It can be read in the busiest park on the coldest bench and it will conjure up various images to the reader, being alone in their room so they can fantasise about their union with their lover.

You will not believe what longing for you possesses me. The chief cause of this is my love and then we have not grown used to be apart. So it comes to pass that I lie awake a great part of the night thinking of you and that by day when the hours return at which I was wont to visit you my feet take me as it so truly said to your chamber but not finding you there I return sick and sat at heart like an excluded lover. The only time that is free from these torments is when I am being work out at the bar and in the suits of my friends. Judge what you must be my life when I find mu repose in toil my solace in wretchedness and anxiety. Farewell.

To Calpurnia, from Pliny.

Mozart to his Constanze

Dear little wife, I have a number of requests to make. I beg you

1 not to be melancholy

2 to take care of your health and to beware of spring breeezes

3 not to go walking alone and preferably not to go walking out at all

4 to feel absolutely assured of my love. Up to the present I have not written a single letter to you without placing your dear portrat before me

5 and lastly i beg you to send me more details in your letters....

Beethoven to his Immortal Beloved. To this day we do not know for certain who she was.

My angel my all my own self only a few words today and that too with pencil (with yours) only till tomorrow is my lodging definitely be fixed. What abnonimable waste of time in such things - Why this deep grief when necessity speaks ? can our love endure except through sacrifices, through not demanding everything? Canst thou change it thou are not wholly mine and I not entirely thine?, Oh God, look into beautiful Nature and compose your mind to the ineveitable Love demands everything and is quite right so it is for me with you for you with me only you foget so easily that i must live for you and for me were we quite united you would notice this panful feeling as little as i should my bosom is full to tell you much there are moments when i find that speech is nothing at all..

To see those eyes I prize above mine ownDart favors on another—And those sweet lips (yielding immortal nectar)Be gently press'd by any but myself—Think, think Francesca, what a cursed thingIt were beyond expression! J.

(John Keats)

To his Fanny Brawne

My sweet Girl—Your Letter gave me more delight than any thing in the world but yourself could do; indeed I am almost astonished that any absent one should have that luxurious power over my senses which I feel. Even when I am not thinking of you I receive your influence and a tenderer nature stealing upon me. All my thoughts, my unhappiest days and nights have I find not at all cured me of my love of Beauty, but made it so intense that I am miserable that you are not with me: or rather breathe in that dull sort of patience that cannot be called Life.

I never knew before, what such a love as you have made me feel, was; I did not believe in it; my Fancy was afraid of it, lest it should burn me up. But if you will fully love me, though there may be some fire, 'twill not be more than we can bear when moistened and bedewed with Pleasures.
You mention 'horrid people' and ask me whether it depend upon them whether I see you again. Do understand me, my love, in this. I have so much of you in my heart that I must turn Mentor when I see a chance of harm befalling you. I would never see any thing but Pleasure in your eyes, love on your lips, and Happiness in your steps. I would wish to see you among those amusements suitable to your inclinations and spirits; so that our loves might be a delight in the midst of Pleasures agreeable enough, rather than a resource from vexations and cares. But I doubt much, in case of the worst, whether I shall be philosopher enough to follow my own Lessons: if I saw my resolution give you a pain I could not.
Why may I not speak of your Beauty, since without that I could never have lov'd you? I cannot conceive any beginning of such love as I have for you but Beauty. There may be a sort of love for which, without the least sneer at it, I have the highest respect and can admire it in others: but it has not the richness, the bloom, the full form, the enchantment of love after my own heart. So let me speak of your Beauty, though to my own endangering; if you could be so cruel to me as to try elsewhere its Power...

You say you are afraid I shall think you do not love me—in saying this you make me ache the more to be near you. I am at the diligent use of my faculties here, I do not pass a day without sprawling some blank verse or tagging some rhymes; and here I must confess, that, (since I am on that subject,) I love you the more in that I believe you have liked me for my own sake and for nothing else. I have met with women whom I really think would like to be married to a Poem and to be given away by a Novel. I have seen your Comet, and only wish it was a sign that poor Rice would get well whose illness makes him rather a melancholy companion: and the more so as so to conquer his feelings and hide them from me, with a forc'd Pun.
I kiss'd your Writing over in the hope you had indulg'd me by leaving a trace of honey. What was your dream? Tell it me and I will tell you the interpretation threreof.
Ever yours, my love!

Finally, for now, my favourite couple Elizabeth Barret and Robert Browning.

"The courtship and marriage between Robert Browning and Elizabeth were carried out secretly. Six years his elder and an invalid, she could not believe that the vigorous and worldly Browning really loved her as much as he professed to, and her doubts are expressed in the Sonnets from the Portuguese, which she wrote over the next two years. Love conquered all, however, and, after a private marriage at St. Marylebone Parish Church, Browning imitated his hero Shelley by spiriting his beloved off to Italy in August 1846, which became her home almost continuously until her death. ...

As Elizabeth had inherited some money of her own, the couple were reasonably comfortable in Italy, and their relationship together was content. The Brownings were well respected in Italy and they would be asked for autographs or stopped by people because of their celebrity. Elizabeth grew stronger, and, in 1849, at the age of 43, she gave birth to a son, Robert Wiedemann Barrett Browning, whom they called Pen...
Several Browning critics have suggested that the poet decided that he was an “objective poet” and then sought out a “subjective poet” in the hope that dialogue with her would enable him to be more successful...

At her husband's insistence, the second edition of Elizabeth’s Poems included her love sonnets; these increased her popularity and high critical regard so that she cemented her position as favourite Victorian poetess."

"Although her poetry, letters, and diaries reveal a profound ambivalence about love, Elizabeth Barrett Browning seems, despite some difficulties, to have enjoyed a very happy relationship with her husband, Robert Browning. According to Kathleen Blake, Robert Browning was practically "a one-man refutation of virtually all of her anxieties."

Robert Browning was emphatically unlike the doctors humorously described by E.B.B., who carried the inkstand out of her room as part of the cure because if poetry involves malady for men, "for women it was incompatible with any common show of health under any circumstances".

Their relationship began in his admiring her poetry. His audacious first letter moves from loving her books to loving her. E.B.B. was alarmed by his "extravagance", and worried that he might substitute lioness-worship for real feeling, with something of Aurora Leigh's distaste for merely literary adulation.

.. E.B.B. had had previous experience of one-sided affection, as we see in her diary of 1831-3, which concerns her relationship with the Greek scholar H.S. Boyd. For a year her entries calculate the bitter difference between his regard and her own, and she wonders if she can ever hope for reciprocation. In fact she finds her womanly capacity for feeling a liability and wishes she could feel less — "I am not of a cold nature, & cannot bear to be treated coldly. When cold water is thrown upon a hot iron, the iron hisses. I wish that water wd. make that iron as cold as self."

..Besides being hurt in love, E.B.B. also felt she had done hurt, and this too made her cautious. She felt that she had actually caused her brother's death by wanting him to be with her, and done violence to a tight-knit family. She fearfully questioned what sort of a gift her heart would make to Browning since she was not young (thirty-eight), six years an invalid, broken-spirited in guilt and sorrow.
So for a long time Robert Browning had to accede to her formula, urged in the Sonnets, that he loved her for nothing at all, just because he loved her. But once he had overcome her mistrust, he began to campaign for his right to include her poetic gift among his reasons for being smitten: "How can I put your poetry away from you?" She must keep up writing her writing for "Ba herself to be quite Ba". He worried that she might scant her own work in order to help him and write him letters, for her knew how self-sacrificing affection could make her. She answered that she felt better and stronger for his interest and did not grow so idle as he thought. She was composing the Sonnets during their letter-writing courtship, and she also outlined her rough idea for Aurora Leigh. Browning comments that he would like to undertake something as ambitious himself, and "you can do it, I know and am sure."

Browning was a helpful critic from the beginning, for instance, from his earliest letter commenting on her translation of Prometheus Bound. But E.B.B. was not easily influenced and often stood up for her originality even when people thought it amounted to eccentricity, as they more than once did. On her controversial Poems Before Congress she says, "I never wrote to please any of you, not even to please my own husband". ..Browning's benefit to her work went beyond encouragement, criticism and provision of a model to study but not to copy. E.B.B. had felt the limits of her own experience as limits to her poetry. She had known a filial and invalid exaggeration of feminine enclosure. Browning gave her Italy, gave her travel, gave her experience. Her letters in marriage run over with the high spirits of a wanderer and observer
Besides expanding her material, Browning also restored her to her own aesthetic. E.B.B.'s ars poetica stressed self-expression, made it a first principle to "looke in thine heart, and write"

You will only expect a few words, what will those be?
When the heart is full it may run over, but the real
fullness stays within.
You asked me yesterday "if I should repent?"
Yes, my own Ba, I could with all the past were
to do over again, that in it I might somewhat
more, never so little more, conform in the outward
homage, to the inward feeling, What I have professed,
(for I have performed nothing) seems to fall short
of what my first love required even, and when I think
of this moment's love...I could repent, as I say.
Words can never tell you, however, form them,
transform them anyway, how perfectly dear you
are to me, perfectly dear to my heart and soul.
I look back, and in every one point, every word
and gesture, every letter, every silence, you have
been entirely perfect to me, I would not change
one word, one look.
My hope and aim are to preserve this love, not to
fall from it, for which I trust to God who procured
it for me, and doubtless can preserve it.
Enough now, my dearest, dearest, own Ba!
You have
given me the highest, completest proof of love that
ever one human being gave another.
I am all gratitude,
and all pride (under the proper feeling which ascribes
pride to the right source) all pride that my life has
been so crowned by you.
God bless you prays your very own R.

"As we study literature, Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning appear as one of most romantic literary couple from the Victorian period. After reading her poems for the first time, Robert wrote to her: "I love your verses with all my heart, dear Miss Barrett--I do, as I say, love these verses with all my heart."With that first meeting of hearts and minds, a love affair would blossom between the two. Elizabeth told Mrs. Martin that she was "getting deeper and deeper into correspondence with Robert Browning, poet and mystic; and we are growing to be the truest of friends." During the 20 months of their courtship, the couple exchanged nearly 600 letters. But what is love without obstacles and hardships? As Frederic Kenyon writes, "Mr. Browning knew that he was asking to be allowed to take charge of an invalid's life—believed indeed that she was even worse than was really the case, and that she was hopelessly incapacitated from ever standing on her feet—-but was sure enough of his love to regard that as no obstacle."The Bonds of MarriageTheir subsequent marriage was a secret matter, taking place on September 12, 1846, at Marylebone Church. Most of her family members eventually accepted the match, but her father disowned her, would not open her letters, and refused to see her. Elizabeth stood by her husband, and she credited him for saving her life. She wrote to Mrs. Martin: "I admire such qualities as he has—-fortitude, integrity. I loved him for his courage in adverse circumstances which were yet felt by him more literally than I could feel them. Always he has had the greatest power over my heart, because I am of those weak women who reverence strong men."Out of their courtship and those early days of marriage came an outpouring of poetic expression. Elizabeth finally gave her little packet of sonnets to her husband, who could not keep them to himself. "I dared not," he said, "reserve to myself the finest sonnets written in any language since Shakespeare's." The collection finally appeared in 1850 as "Sonnets from the Portuguese." Kenyon writes, "With the single exception of Rossetti, no modern English poet has written of love with such genius, such beauty, and such sincerity, as the two who gave the most beautiful example of it in their own lives."The Brownings lived in Italy for the next 15 years of their lives, until Elizabeth died in Robert's arms on June 29, 1861. It was while they were living there in Italy that they both wrote some of their most memorable poems. "