Eroticism

And do you see that tiny wisp of hair cutting across her nose? I die each time..
Adorable. My mind is gravitating toward mischievous more than whimsical. Almost like she has something she wants to tell you yet savours your anticipation in needing to hear it….
 
I have a love hate relationship with corsets. On one hand, I find it repulsive to think of the women and their broken ribs , their fainting spells that rendered them completely hostage to male desire, male dominance.

But, I wear them, and suddenly I am cowed by its tight embrace, that fabric, and its drawstrings that say to me, "I am I alone can give you breath." How often have I become the docile little thing, and how often have I enjoyed this role, the constant craving.

Siri von Hurstvedt wrote a piece called "Eight days in a Corset." And while I read this with admiration, her impressions did not strike with me. Still, I find myself in a strange situation in wishing for the ties that bind, for the sorcery of corsets, for corsetry.
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I have a love hate relationship with corsets. On one hand, I find it repulsive to think of the women and their broken ribs , their fainting spells that rendered them completely hostage to male desire, male dominance.

But, I wear them, and suddenly I am cowed by its tight embrace, that fabric, and its drawstrings that say to me, "I am I alone can give you breath." How often have I become the docile little thing, and how often have I enjoyed this role, the constant craving.

Siri von Hurstvedt wrote a piece called "Eight days in a Corset." And while I read this with admiration, her impressions did not strike with me. Still, I find myself in a strange situation in wishing for the ties that bind, for the sorcery of corsets, for corsetry.
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Nothing wrong with being “hostage” to male or female desire and dominance!
We’re all “grown ups” and know what we’re doing.
We all understand what provokes and what doesn’t and I err on the side of assuming intelligence in others.
I do seem to very often find this narrative being pedalled, sometimes rather subtly, that women are just soooo innocent and naive, to which, I think…, bolloks!
Minor rant over!
Beautiful pictures…
 
I have a love hate relationship with corsets. On one hand, I find it repulsive to think of the women and their broken ribs , their fainting spells that rendered them completely hostage to male desire, male dominance.

But, I wear them, and suddenly I am cowed by its tight embrace, that fabric, and its drawstrings that say to me, "I am I alone can give you breath." How often have I become the docile little thing, and how often have I enjoyed this role, the constant craving.

Siri von Hurstvedt wrote a piece called "Eight days in a Corset." And while I read this with admiration, her impressions did not strike with me. Still, I find myself in a strange situation in wishing for the ties that bind, for the sorcery of corsets, for corsetry.

Women are such vulnerable/powerful beings. On one hand, they so often suffer at the hands of their lovers, but when the relationship is healthy, to be able to feel enpowered and sexually powerful (merely) by wearing by a corset or lingerie, what an intoxicating sense that must be. As a man, I don't think I have ever felt anything like that simply because of something I wear.

Corsets provide structure, form, very practical. It's also a weapon for seduction, and when finally seduced, it allows intimacy when she finally lets you take it off. It's the Swiss army knife of clothes. And maybe the first lingerie you wear outside. I love a corset on a woman.

Hate the history of corsets, love the corset in the modern.
 
When the fishermen cast their nets, they cast them with hope, with ardour, with the promise of what is to come, but it also a penance, and also a submission, a submission to the forces that keep the world moving.

Such is the feelings and sensations I get when I cast my eyes on women who walk past me in fishnets.. How...how every intoxicating! How completely captivating!

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I have a love hate relationship with corsets. On one hand, I find it repulsive to think of the women and their broken ribs , their fainting spells that rendered them completely hostage to male desire, male dominance.

But, I wear them, and suddenly I am cowed by its tight embrace, that fabric, and its drawstrings that say to me, "I am I alone can give you breath." How often have I become the docile little thing, and how often have I enjoyed this role, the constant craving.

Siri von Hurstvedt wrote a piece called "Eight days in a Corset." And while I read this with admiration, her impressions did not strike with me. Still, I find myself in a strange situation in wishing for the ties that bind, for the sorcery of corsets, for corsetry.
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Very classy 😁
 
I've finally managed to resurface, and I will resume posting...so if you're wondering (probably not!), then I haven't really left. I've just been drowning in all kinds of things...some lovely and sweet, some not quite, but such is the way of the world!
 
I've missed you darlings, but I bring mixed moments today, moments of reflection, solitude, moments of ethereality, and moments of heightened passion. Moments where glimpses are stolen, or even given to the eye that thinks its stealing, because today I brim with a kind of longing for the world, a longing that I cannot explain, such longing that makes me shudder - it is not the longing for sex or physical lust, but my heart is open today, and I feel so immortal, so ecstatic. Ask me to explain, and you will only get a smile and a soft shrug. I cannot explain it.
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I've missed you darlings, but I bring mixed moments today, moments of reflection, solitude, moments of ethereality, and moments of heightened passion. Moments where glimpses are stolen, or even given to the eye that thinks its stealing, because today I brim with a kind of longing for the world, a longing that I cannot explain, such longing that makes me shudder - it is not the longing for sex or physical lust, but my heart is open today, and I feel so immortal, so ecstatic. Ask me to explain, and you will only get a smile and a soft shrug. I cannot explain it.
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As always so many beautiful images of shadow and light, of form and of motion captured… feminine in its understated, yet powerful presence.

My favorite is No. 5, highlighting the woman’s broad, naked back … three flowers atop of tight, form-fitting skirt. Beautiful and so sensual. ❤️❤️❤️❤️
 
I must have woken up and found myself in heaven. For this surely must be the most alluring thread in the whole of Lit. Funnily, it is also the thread that many of the regular visitors to Lit who are quick to post things in threads that are overtly sexual rarely visit. It's a shame. There is a singular pleasure in the tormet of eroticism
 
The second one.. it leaves more to the imagination.. wouldn’t you say?
I’m just happy to have your approval

But? I’m seeing some bush..

Not sure the first had any to be fair

This?
 
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Does it matter if the woman Is shaven or not? Is it that much of a turn off for men?
 
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