Music Therapy

My piano teacher today told me that I am too tense. In my shoulders, my back, my arms; my whole body has tensed up and it is affecting my playing. She asked if I am stressed about anything and I explained that I feel pressure when preparing pieces for a performance, but this is not really entirely true - I just didn't have a solid reason to give her ...

So what am I tense about? The fact that I am on edge everytime I hear that my irresposible, irrational, highly volatile little sister has gone out driving in a temper now that she's passed her test? That each time my parents draw one fight closer to finally separating they call me up to martial me into taking one of their sides, when they know I refuse to get involved? The unfortunate fact that my recent move to live closer to my family for the first time in my life is actually more difficult than never seeing them at all?!

No, I think in truth, the reason for my tension is that I feel, since moving to the UK, that my life has become empty. Lacking in activity and excitement and, to some extent, emotion. I was always the one who was out every night at a different ballet, art exhibition, gallery evening, theatre performance, bellydancing class, burlesque show, piano concert, friends' gatherings, dinners, restless walks around the lamplit city parks at 1 in the morning musing idly on our lives or just noting unusual artistry on the side of moonlit buildings. I have become too busy with work and concert preparation, errands and family commitments, to busy just skating through everyday life to make time for the joys I used to make time for. My vision shifted imperceptably at some point from "indulge in the joy life brings and live life like there is now tomorrow, work and chores will fit themselves in somehow", to "put in the effort and persevere to achieve your goals and pleasure will come to you soon". I don't remember where this happened and I am not at all happy that it is how I am living at the moment - For want of a better image, I seem to be waiting to eat the cake once I have baked it perfectly and left it to cool, whereas before I would have eaten most of the mixture before the cake got into the tin, which meant I had to make a few little fairy cakes instead and decorate them divinely to divert attention from the fact that they are not exactly what they were supposed to be. (This is actually truly how I bake, except when it's someone's birthday, in which case I can whip up a delightfully creamy triple chocolate gateau without getting my mouth too sticky!) But my original method is an infinitely more delicious way to go about things.

I know there is surely a balance, a middle road that allows me to bake a complete cake and eat some of the mixture along the way, I just need to will myself the discipline, because usually, once I've stuck my finger in once, and savoured that saccarine liquid on my tongue, there's no restraining me.

But I definitely need to regain my sense of self and my lust for life that seems to be escaping me at the moment. Perhaps I should take a day out from the mundane and do something exciting like zorbing, or even skydiving. That would wake me out of my rut and I've always wanted to do it.

My piano teacher's somewhat tamer prescription is that I need a serious massage and to start doing yoga.

Apologies

I really am sorry about the incredible lack of posts over the last couple of weeks - I have been tremendously busy with work and on top of that, there has been a wedding/blessing, 3 birthdays, a golden aniversary and a DMT + trampolining meet. Life has been very hectic!

But I am back now and can share with you all the delights of the first few appointments that I have had the past 2 weeks ...

I'd like to say thank you to everyone who has emailed me and who have been so friendly and supportive since I started blogging and escorting - both are completely new experiences for me and I was pleasantly surprised at the sense of community and friendship that exist with both, so thank you!

Lily x

Sugasm #125

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #126? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

All-Nekkid Thursday courtesy of Tara Tainton.

This Week’s Picks
Filling Myself
“We too want, need, conversations in which someone listens to us and considers our needs, not just their own.”

Sex Worker Solidarity: Amanda Brooks
“There’s a lot of love among activists, even those who disagree with one another.”

Need
“These images that come from the artistic workings of your inner soul speak to me, as mine do to you.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself (one from the vaults)
10 Lies Pornographers Tell

Editor’s Choice
Though We’ve Never Met


More Sugasm
Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

Raincheck

I was going to make a post on some ponderings I've had recently about the Devadasi, and I still intend to write it, although probably tomorrow morning now, because I have just sat down to watch 'Desperate Housewives' and suck on some deliciously creamy caramel that I boiled up because ...

... my date for saturday has just postponed.

I am disappointed, but by the sounds of it, so is he. Such is life. He has been called upon to entertain business colleagues who are down in London for a few days, and whilst I cheekily reminded him that I can look just as delightful in an evening dress as out of one, he doesn't think he will be able to behave himself and act professionally with a beautiful girl there to distract him and his little friend!

So now I start afresh. Again. And as must be evident from my previous posts, I am not yet clear on how to go about enticing my first clients, as a result of my aforementioned 'Catch 22'esque situation.

I'm afraid today's posts haven't been very exciting, maybe to the point of boring, in which case I apologise ~ as I'm sure you can tell, there has been a lot on my mind.


But my readers' patience is about to be duly rewarded, and I will leave them with a choice of which lascivious gift they would most take pleasure in reading this weekend ~ Would Lily's readers like to hear about:

1) Her little run in with the priest at her Catholic boarding school (yes, I'm afraid it is indeed true, although as you may find out ~ she didn't last there for long!)

... or would they prefer

2) The tale of Lily's naughty escapades at a secluded chateau in France, where she discovered the true value of foreign tongues?!

The decision is in your hands! x

Rolling Balls

So after much deliberation, perhaps more than neccesary, as to which I should choose, I have placed my profile with an escorting website and have already made my first booking ...

... for Saturday, in case anybody was interested(!).


Responses have been surprisingly polite and mostly genuine, with fewer timewasters than I anticipated! I don't think I will keep my ad there very long, as it is not really how I want to go about things, but until I get started, it will suffice.

Now all that remains is for me to complete the last week of my current job and make sure I am prepared for anything and everything - Now is where it really starts ...

I'll keep you posted on how it all unfolds, if you wish to follow my story. For the moment, I am just excited and apprehensive.

Lily x

A Long Awaited Meeting

She stepped from the train, glancing calmly behind to see if you stood on the platform, she didn’t know where to expect you. As she walked towards the stairs she looked up while negotiating the steps in her stilettos – your favourites, high, black with gold trim and gilt metal doves on the sides – and saw you stood there, your old coat turned up against the expected chill, chocolate eyes turned towards her in anticipation. She waved a shy greeting and continued down, heart fluttering just at your presence.

‘You look beautiful’
‘Thank you,’
‘I should have made an effort - you’ve made feel scruffy now’
‘No, I like it when you don’t shave’

Never had she told you how she prefers the days when you show up to work with a dark shadow outlining your sharp jaw line, contrasting with your smooth latte skin and transforming your laughing eyes into deep pools of intensity. Then with a second glance she realises you meant the simple white t-shirt and cargos you’ve thrown on, an escape from the usual.


.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.


Hours later, sitting on the bed behind her as she leans over the table to retrieve your headphones, you reach forward and lift the hem of her dress, gazing at the creamy round buttocks presented pertly before you as she slowly straightens up and turns around to smile coyly at your cheekiness. She sits again at the keyboard and plays out a few phrases. Just as she starts to ask what you think, you are behind her, your hand slipping into the top of her dress, flicking her nipple as you reach to massage her ready breast.

‘So now you’re getting horny’, leaning back she turns and looks up at you.
‘I’ve been turned on since I saw you step of that train’ you reply, moving your hand across to enjoy the other side, reaching closer, your breath warm and sweet against her bare neck.

You lead her up out of the soft leather and towards you where you stand in the centre of the room. Facing each other the air is still and fragile in anticipation of this long awaited moment – her timidity makes her wait for you to give her the permission for that which she has waited months for … at your gentle smile and almost imperceptible nod, she lifts her dress over her head to reveal the slim, toned body you have traced beneath her clothes at work; the smooth tanned skin you have stroked in stolen moments when you passed each other at the bar; the small but full breasts and large dark nipples you have so often imagined from her beautiful silhouette. Calmly you bring her towards you; hooking a finger into her black scallop-edged thong you pull it gently down and toss it onto the floor when she steps out. You drop to your knees and delicately peel off her nude stockings, caressing her calves as you do so. Straightening up, you take her hand, falling slowly onto the bed with her small frame enveloped in your strong embrace. You kiss her for the first time, tongue gentle against her giving lips, but it is not enough and you move your mouth down to her neck, her shoulder, her chest before taking a hard nipple in your teeth, savouring every mouthful of her musky taste you lick, bite, suck her supple skin as your bodies entwine, each aching for immediate satisfaction of your lusting senses.

Finally you flip her over, pulling her ass upwards and back into you, your cock ready, you spread her cheeks and exhale in awe, your every dream embodied here in this moment as you gaze down at her glistening, expectant cunt.

'Beautiful, such a pretty little pussy, ... ' you muse, stroking it gently, you grab her hips and ease yourself into her, savouring each second of sensation, amazed that you are finally here, at last inside her sweet body, she moans in tune to your reverie. Your hands pull her back again and again, thrusting in and in, slowly at first as she gets used to you, then more aggressively.

‘Arch your back baby, arch it for me’

She raises her buttocks, arching her back into those primal contours you love so much.

‘That’s it, there, hold it there, ohh’.

You grasp her neck in your strong grip and turn her face to look into yours, she moans with pleasure, her mouth parted slightly with each breath, a wry smile playing across her lips as she enjoys taking in your expressive eyes. You hold her there, intent that she should see what you are doing to her, but her head slips out from between your hands, she tries to hold the position, tries to please you, turns to look as far around as she can without your help.

‘Look at your shadow, look at that, look at the sensuous shape you’re throwing into the shadow, look at me in you, baby, look at that, that's your silhouette, you are doing that, don’t you like how you look baby?’

She bites her lip and smiles in agreement, silently pleased that she finally succumbed to the incessant pressure you placed on her, pressure to let you taste her charms, to indulge your ache for her delightfully pure body.



Now she spasms, small sharp intakes of breath, her hips pulling away from you in jagged movements then resting back against you briefly before jerking away from you again, repeatedly.

‘Please tell me that was lots of little ones …’ you murmur.
‘Mmmm …’ she purrs, lifting herself up to lean her back against you, reaching across to stroke your cheek whilst she nibbles the opposite earlobe and kisses the skin on the side of your neck. You stroke her thighs, her waist, her breasts, taking in as much of her as you can with just two hands, stroking, caressing, your fingers dancing over her curves.

'Good girl' you soothe, warm breath and lips brushing against her temple, before slowly lowering her body, arranging her limbs how you want them below your admiring stare.

You continue, pausing and pulling out every now and then to admire her dripping wet pussy, angled so finely for you to gaze at. You calmly massage and separate her buttocks, pushing them apart to open up her ass and her glistening slit. You cannot resist licking her juices. She squirms, pushing backwards, yearning for you to enter her again, and you concede, thrusting harder this time you grab her hair with one hand and pull her head back roughly towards you, slapping her taut muscles firmly with the other palm – she gasps with delight, you hit more sharply, this time resting your hand there to massage her butt cheek, now gripping it, stretching it outwards to watch yourself moving inside her sweet form.

‘You’re doing so good baby, taking it like a soldier, oh, my little soldier girl …’ you tell her as you push her head sharply down into the mattress, causing her pert backside to rise in that refined shape.

She pushes herself up again, onto her elbows, hands out in front, crouched there like a languid little sphinx for you and you alone.

You don’t like it when she doesn’t stay put; ‘Show me how I like it’

She moves her legs to position herself.

‘Is that how I like it?’

At your commanding tone she raises her ass, lowers her shoulders slightly and arches her back, struggling to find the position you are expecting. You laugh, a low, self-indulgent chuckle that makes her feel clumsy and inept as you manipulate her, pulling her hips up higher and her legs closer together. You hold her into you as you pause for a moment, eyeing her hot skin, flushed with exertion and arousal. Oh, she is doing so well. Pushing down firmly on the small of her back you move with a renewed force, faster, almost violent, ravaging her tiny frame, determined to keep her like this until you empty yourself at last into her cunt. Her breathing becomes uneven, she begins to take loud, shallow breaths as a guttural, animalistic moan rises up in her throat and she grinds back onto you, reaching out to take as much of you in as she can, shuddering as the convulsions ripple through up through her body.

Smug, you groan at the release you finally permit yourself now that she has sated her own appetite. Digging your nails into her flawless skin in your elation you draw five tiny spots of rich crimson blood, marking her as your own.


To Be Continued .....

Sweet Sigh

I feel every piece of music I hear, every note I play, every beat that pulses through the air, I feel every layer. A piece of music can make me laugh out with pure, anadulterated joy or bring tears to my eyes at the pain it invokes ... music is my everything.



Whilst playing Chopin's 'Sospiro' this morning, I suddenly realised how it is the musical incarnation of an orgasm. Not those sudden explosions of passion, but the ones that creep up on you in slow intense waves, radiating softly out from your core until they reach your toes, causing them to curl and flex and you feel that the pleasure is too much for you to bear, that all you are is writhing at the mercy of this pulsating nub at the centre of your body ... when it realeases you it is not once, but in convulsion after sweet shuddering convulsion, over and over, every nerve ending burning, on fire, ripple after ripple of molten heat, engulfing your body in it's relentless embrace until it finally allows your skin to cool down, gradually relaxing in a satisfied pool of sodden, breathless relief.

I wanted to share with you, how I felt as my fingers stroked each inspired note of Chopin's aptly named 'Sigh'.

Lily x